


Anonymia Eoptenia

by EternalReincarnation



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, He's everywhere in this story, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Sassy Hades
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalReincarnation/pseuds/EternalReincarnation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His mother has named him Abaddon."</p><p>Anger flashed once more in his eyes.</p><p>"What mother would be cruel enough to name him such a thing?"</p><p>"Helen of Troy."</p><p>That was all that needed to be said and he nodded as of confirming something.</p><p>"I shall take the child and will raise him as my own son. This I promise to the Gods."</p><p>Helen of Troy, viciously taken by Deiphobus, brother of Paris, to be his wife, births a babe of the Trojan lineage and sends him away to be raised by another. Enraged by Paris's old betrayal, Hera plans to destroy the child before it can take it's throne as the last heir of Priam. Only Hades, God of the Underworld stands in her way, and finds himself getting closer to child than he had ever thought possible. </p><p>Theodore Lowsely, a historian and archaeologist, discovers a scroll most mysterious that leads him into the foray of a battle between two gods while discovering a secret about himself along the way.</p><p>Connected by time and pulled together by fate, these two stories will shake the very foundation of Olympus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deiphobus stood beside her, erect with a giant smile on his face. How could he be smiling when his brothers were dead and his armies lay about on the battlefield with their corpses decorating the beach?

_Blood_. Most women smelled exotic spices and fragrances on their wedding day, Helen had no such luck.  _Why does it continue to haunt me?_  Deiphobus stood beside her, erect with a giant smile on his face. How could he be smiling when his brothers were dead and his armies lay about on the battlefield with their corpses decorating the beach?

Helen found him disgusting. A man, so quick to take his brother's wife, when he was not yet cold in the grave was not a man at all. He glanced with leering eyes that sent fear through her. Marriage felt like chains upon her swan-like neck as it had when she was married to Menelaus.

She cursed her beauty; it was disdainful as the war that carried on outside the walls, staining them scarlet. She cursed the poisoness lips that sealed her fate, the priest was solemn and mumbled his words half heartedly. It was unlike her and Paris's wedding, joyous and a spiteful gesture to the Greeks. Now, there was silence and hateful glances toward her person. Priam did not look at her.

His eyes were shut as if he was blocking out the world around him. His beard was gray and the dreaded lines of age were vengefully upon his face. Guilt stabbed her like the ridged blade of a dagger. Paris, how could our love, so innocent and pure in its intentions cause so much strife, Helen thought tearfully. She turned on her heel back to Deiphobus. He was suddenly a much more pleasant sight.

"Come my bride," Deiphobus's voice was gruff with desire. Color drained itself from Helen's face. She followed him dutifully to his chambers wishing the sounds of war on the outside could drown her thoughts.

He undressed quickly and enthusiastically while Helen undid her garments slowly. Her icy blue eyes were not on him, but the floor below her.

"Look at me." He asked her.

She could not. His face screwed up in anger and he grabbed her by her chin roughly. His lustful gaze seared itself into her being.

"Even if you do not give yourself to me willingly, I will take what is rightfully mine."

She shivered with fear, but held eye contact defiantly.

"What is yours has already belonged to Paris." She whispered.

He roared with indignation and grabbed at her creamy, white neck, throwing her on the silk sheets. Everything about his body was hard unlike Paris, whose soft skin rivaled her own. As he spread her legs, she braved herself and let out a blood curdling scream as he finally entered her. With each thrust she was ripped at the seams. She cried into the mattress, her sobs muffled. No one came to her aid, no matter how loud she screamed. A pox on the city of Troy, she thought through her tears.

The days passed on as a blur of nothingness. After the first night, she did not try to fight him and have him what he wished, spitefully laying limp as she did so. Deiphobus would curse and smack her, but to no avail. He eventually realized his actions were futile and used other women for his animalistic urges. He forced Helen to watch and she gazed at them with half lidded eyes of hatred.

Only when her husband was on the battlefield did she finally obtain peace. All that resided in Priam's palace avoided her as if she was plagued, with the occasional servant indulging her whims with blank faces and eyes alight with hatred. She was more than content to do such menial tasks herself than to look into the eyes of the wives whose husbands she had involuntarily killed. This left her to her thoughts and memories of the tender Paris and, unfortunately, of the day she last saw him.

_Their lovemaking was desperate, hungry and they clawed at each other passionately. She didn't know how, but she knew this would be their last time together. Her tears fell like rain drops onto the sheets. Paris stopped and held her close to him, rocking her gently._

_"Why do you cry my love?" he asked, running his hands through her silk like dark blonde locks._

_"You shall die tomorrow," now that she had spoken it, she knew for sure that it would come to pass. She could see his body now in her minds eye, mangled and run through with the gleaming blade of Menelaus._

_"You have been to the oracle." he scolded._

_"I shall be fine Helen. I tire of being a coward while my brothers and fellow Trojans fight my battles. My brother Hector has already died by the cruel hand of Achilles. Surely the gods will take pity on me and spare my life."_

_Oh Paris if they didn't spare Hector's life, what makes you think they will spare yours, she thought and held him tightly through the night._

When she had seen his body the next day, there was no more tears to shed, only curses, more for herself than Paris. If only she had done more to convince him, if only. It did not surprise her that they married her off as quickly as they could to another one of Priam's sons. Without Paris, nothing kept her on the side of the Trojans. She was their last desperate attempt to keep back the Greeks. Paris might have been gone, but they still had the main spoil.

She sat in her room brooding when Deiphobus came to her, carrying an oinochoe, the wine pitcher,and two kylixs, wine cups, for the both of them. She eyed him disdainfully.

"What is it that you desire that you come to me carrying wine?" she asked, pinch faced.

"Are you so cold even on a day such as this?"

"It is a normal day of bloodshed," she told him, with more emotion than she had wanted to show. "There is nothing new."

"The Greeks have given up and made us a fabulous wooden horse almost the size of our walls!" Deiphobus exclaimed, his face flushed with pleasure. It wouldn't surprise her if he wasn't already drunk.

"Wooden...horse?"

Odysseus! A warm feeling swelled up from the belly to consume her whole being. The Trojans were fools if they thought it was an average wooden horse. They underestimated the Greeks cunning, especially Odysseus. She drank from her cup in celebration of her freedom.

Deiphobus drunk much more than she did, sloshing the violet colored drink on his criton. He fondled at her breasts drunkenly, trying desperately to strip away her clothing. She allowed him with a small smile on her face, after all, soon he would be dead. Well into the night, he slept against her, snoring loud enough to awaken the titans themselves. She laid awake, waiting for the sound of her salvation.

Then, there it was. The hard stomping and the loud clashes of metal against metal. The Greeks had arrived. The yelps and cries of agony of those that had once been her friends chilled her heart. All her fault, all of it. Only with her surrender did they stand a chance of being spared.

"Deiphobus, Greeks," she screamed as loudly as she could, praying to Zeus all would go as planned.

He awoke from his slumber with a jolt and reached ran for his sword, tumbling about pathetically, wine still fully in his system. A commotion sounded by their door and in came Menelaus and Odysseus, covered head to toe in the blood of the Trojans she once had loved. The ten years had been good to her once husband, turning him stronger and bronze from the sun of Illiad. His beard that had once been a fox like red was now beginning the metamorphosis of graying.

He only had eyes for her, his brown eyes alert with hatred and smoldering passion for her exposed body.

"Wretch! So you betray us once more?" he hissed, inching his way closer to her, sword in hand.

She ran dutifully to Deiphobus who was more than happy than to protect her, despite barley being able to stand.

"She is mine now Greek!" he slurred, swinging about his sword.

Menelaus rushes towards him roaring, with Odysseus in tow and easily parried Deiphobus's weak attacks, knocking his sword out of his hands. The grey eyed Trojan fell to his knees and begged for mercy, his words slurring together the harder he wept. Helen could almost weep at how far he had fallen.

"There can be no mercy for those who take what isn't theirs," Menelaus's replied coldly.

His sword whistled through the air and solidly chopped off the Trojan's head as swift as an executioner. Helen couldn't bear to watch as he was hacked at until nothing much else of him remained, she had never seen such a murderous look in one's eyes before. Odysseus brought him back to earth and gestured in her direction. Grimly, he walked leisurely to her and the sharp point of his blade dug into the base of her throat.

"Tell me Helen, are you Trojan or Greek?"

"I am Greek," she proclaimed unflinchingly.

Menelaus grinned maliciously and retracted his sword from her neck. Odysseus still gazed at her. His eyes burned into her body.

"That is what I wanted to hear!"

"Menelaus be wise about this," Odysseus commented. "How do we know she can fully be trusted? She married a Trojan, twice."

"Both times against my will," Helen found herself saying. Please forgive me Paris. "Paris stole me away that night and I have been held prisoner by the Trojans ever since."

"I knew it," He stil held that bright eyed young look he had at their wedding. For a flicker of a moment Helen wondered, if she had stayed, would she have eventually fallen in love with him? "I always knew."

"There is no more time for conversation," Odysseus hissed and they could har the sounds of soldier foot falls. "We must go now. Our warriors will handle the rest."

Menelaus nodded and waited only moment for her to rerobe herself and grabbed ahold of Helen and the ran through the halls of the palace, slaying all that came in their way as they went. Helen shielded her eyes from the sight but could not shield herself from the blood which splattered on her clothes. It was if the gods were telling her that it was futile for her to erase her guilt. She still had the blood of thousands on her hands.

"Menelaus go," Odysseus commanded him as soon as they reached the outskirts of the palace. "I made sure that a ship is ready for you."

"But Odysseus what of you? Shall I just leave you here to be butchered," he asked gripping Helen's hand tighter.

"I am as subborn as an ox. If I go down, then I am proud to be going down fighting. You have the ultimate prize. Without Helen, the Trojans have nothing to keep fighting for."

"But-"

"Go," he said calmly to him.

His eyes boor into Helen as they ran.

The city of Troy burned. Helen saw the dark, charred remains burning in the river Scamander, a dreary reflection of the once proud city. The boats of the victorious Greeks snaked across with many a soldier cheering within them. Helen could not find it in her to celebrate. She was empty inside, hollow. She could still see the cut up body of Deiphobus in her mind's eye.

She had no pity for him, but for Priam who had lost another son and his beloved city. Menelaus's arm was wrapped around her with a possessive grip. She accepted it without a murmur.

"By Zeus, that was a good ploy! For a moment I thought your sentiments were with Troy," He told her.

They had been. She didn't dare voice this. Her sentiments of Troy died with Paris. The days leading up to their return to Sparta were long and tortuous. No matter how she tried Helen could not keep her food down. Fear shrouded her like a veil. She was carrying Deiphobus's child. She heard the Fates laughing spitefully at her. Please Hera, do not make it so! Her prayers fell on deaf ears.

Helen saw the creases in Menelaus's forehead and his suspicious glances. She bedded him the instant they set foot in their palace. His thrusts were wild and without any rhythms like a hounds. She quietly imagined Paris in his place and joined him in completion. The day after she smiled ruefully, if she could somehow make him think that it was his child she would be spared.

Lies. Just so many lies and half truths. Her daughter Hermione tended to her, her soft voice telling all that had happened in Sparta in her absence. Helen thanked her silently for her kind soul. No one else talked to her.

Not even Menelaus, whose nightly visits had stepped well into the pregnancy. Is this it for me? Am I to just be a trophy of war? The Gods did not answer her. So this is the punishment for my sins? She laughed darkly.

 _I do not repent being loved and returning that love._  Many nights she remembered Paris and his soft looks and tender gestures. Their had been a pure love, tainted only by the bloody war in its wake. Her soul and heart ached for him.

She began to weave again. As a young girl, weaving had been something she avoid with all her being; now, it was her solstice in the world. Oh, how things change and the wheel of time turns. It was there, when the birthing pains first hit her.

She was whisked away to their bed chambers and the midwife was called in. It was an easy birth as compare to Hermione's. The midwife stayed vigorously be her side and whispered soothing nothings in her ear. His feet came first, then his head. The woman held him up for her so see and Helen held back a scream.

Those eyes, those wide eyes belonged to Deiphobus. She knew that she could not keep him in fear of Menelaus.

"Woman listen to me carefully," The mid wife's smile fell. Helen was almost saddened to see it go. "Take him away. He is not safe here. Go now while Menelaus is on the other side of the palace and not yet alarmed of his son's birth."

The midwife clutched the child to her chest and nodded.

"D-do you have a name for him my lady?"

Names, Helen would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. This woman speaks of names. There can only be one for him.

"Abaddon." She whispered and the midwife widened her eyes.

"But-but my lady-"

"Go! NOW!"

The woman quickly left, sprinting. Helen eased back onto her pillows with a ghost of a smile on her face. All through that the lad had been quiet, his eyes holding much strength. It reminded her so much of Paris.  _Fare thee well oh prince of Troy._

She awaited calmly for Menelaus's arrival.

She ran. Her breath came out in harsh gasps with each slap her sandals made on the stones. The baby in her arms did not make a sound, as if he knew the situation at hand. He really was a beautiful child, with his dark blond curls, rosy cheeks and mouth, and the expressive grey eyes of Deiphobus. She placed the sheet back over him as she approached the palace guards.

She could tell that they had been drinking ceremonial wine in celebration of the royal birth. The midwife couldn't imagine how they would take the coming news of Abaddon's still birth. They allowed her to pass and she walked on, pointedly ignoring their cat-calls and taunts. They werefar too intoxicated to follow-up their threats.

She still allowed herself to run although her heart no longer rapidly beat inside her chest. The worst was now over. She felt pity for the poor baby boy that she held in her arms. He was only just born and was tossed aside, like a rag. She slowed down as the nearest town, Pellana, appeared into view. The people on the street were sparse and consisted of men, traders and men of low social rank who scavenged the streets at night for a drink or loose women.

The humble abodes about her were small and white, made of stone and twigs. Doors were footed shut and the sounds of festivities were ebbing from inside. After the long war, the news of the approaching birth was welcomed into the hearts of the town's people. So many of their own sons had grown up, only to join the conflict and be slaughtered like pigs that they welcomed the new prince as a symbol of renewal and bloodless future to come.

The midwife's eyes were downcast, hardly able to stare at the houses and the light heartedness within. A few ships, rocking back and forth with the soft waves, were in the harbor, their goods tucked away into the helm for the morning's market. The sea itself was calm, almost deathly still. The midwife could see herself in the emerald tinted waters, her brown, mousy hair was wild and her cheeks flushed with exhaustion. Oh, she looked like a crazy fool!

Abaddon made a small noise and she unwrapped him once more. He was laughing and his small arms reached outward to her. He wanted to play. Tears blurred her vision and she briefly hugged the boy. I am sorry young one, she thought solemnly. There is not a safe place for you here on here.

Her heart clenched painfully and she lifted him up over her head. He was still laughing. Stop, she pleaded. Please, st-

"STOP!"

A loud, stern voice made her jolt and a burly hand reached out to grab the child. She made a noise of protest and clawed at her offender. He pushed her to the ground scowling. The loud sounds of Abaddon's cries filled the air. She glared at the man who stood stiffly over her; his eyes filled with righteous judgement as if he was sent from the Gods themselves.

He was tall and broad shouldered. His skin was tanned alerting her of his merchant status. His beard was short and the color of the finest ebony. His body was hard and chiseled like he was made from the hands of an expert sculptor. His handsome face was scrunched up in distaste.

"Woman what is it that you named him," He asked, his attention now focused on the baby. His face was now emotionless as he calmed the frightened child.

"His mother has named him Abaddon."

Anger flashed once more in his eyes.

"What mother would be cruel enough to name him such a thing?"

"Helen of Troy."

That was all that needed to be said and he nodded as of confirming something.

"I shall take the child and will raise him as my own son. This I promise to the Gods."

The midwife thanked him profusely and he waved her away, distrust still within his eyes. He turned and began to leave.

"Wait," He stopped in his tracks. "What is your name sir?"

"My name is Solon of Crete."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abaddon: This means destruction and ruination in Greek. Helen sure can pick names.
> 
> Pellana isn't really ancient but it is a town near the ruins of Menelaus's palace.


	2. Day By Day, Watch By Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore Lowsley, a famed archaeologist, discovers something that takes over his mind and awakens his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it wasn't as good as the prologue. You'll never believe how much research it took for just this man alone so if he sounds weird because I based him off of me and Indiana Jones. Those were actually going to be my titles for this story. I came up with the story first before a title. Bad move. The title is actually a line taken from the Odyessy. Enjoy!

_**Present Day: Crete, July 2008** _

The humid Greek sun bore down on Theodore's back and he took a swig of his water to cure his thirst. His fellow archaeologists around him had the looks of those proud of their accomplishment, and they should have. To discover an ancient town on the northern coast of Crete was going to shake the world of archaeology as they knew it. A few ancient homes stood, products of three years of excavation.

An excavation that Theodore Lowsely himself had funded. Theodore was a man born and raised in the bustling city of Birmingham, England. His father had been a professor at the university for Classics and Ancient History. When he was young, his father brought home many Roman, Egyptian, and Greek artifacts. The ancient civilizations all fascinated him but, one had stood beyond the others and sparked his imagination, Ancient Greece.

His father fuel his obsession by buying him The Iliad and The Odyssey. He spent hours reading an rereading the poems to the point their covers were hanging limp. His passion only grew after that. While other young boys his age were outside playing ball, he was inside with his father, studying the rich Greek mythology. He grinned, nostalgic.

His father had long since past on but his love of Greece lived on in his son. Theodore capped his water and turned to his companions.

"Alright guys, you can take a break."

He watched, amused, as they all headed for their water bottles. It was an abnormally hot day. The only relief that came their way was an occasional whisper of wind that lessened their suffering, but not by much. Something was going to happen, he could just feel it! I have to look around some more, he thought, nodding grimly.

There was one house left that they had not yet explored. A once white structure that was now gray and flecked with spots of ecru clay. It was smaller than the other homes and was more near the outskirts of town.

Theodore had concluded at once that whom ever had lived there was a lone soul who preferred seclusion than the interaction of people around them, Theodore could sympathize with that. His heart beat rapidly against his rib-cage as he stepped inside the house, with a pick ax in his back pocket. While excavating, they found several items that led to more knowledge about the resident. However, they had not searched it fully. He took his pick ax out of his pocket and eased down to the floor, scanning the rocky dirt below him. Spotting a peculiar spot, he began to carefully dig at it. Minutes later, he heard a sharp sound and knew he had struck gold.

He brushed away the dirt to find a sandpaper colored top. He hammered around until the ground around it caved in revealing an amphora, a storage jug. His eyes were bright with excitement and he gripped at the handles and pulled with all his strength, using a rock beside his foot for leverage.

He pulled out the jug with a grunt, and a shower of loose dirt rained down on him. The cover flew off and landed somewhere over his shoulder. As he wiped the sweat off his brow he peered inside and saw several pieces of papyrus. Each page had faded black writing and several unraveled threads. Despite this they were in better condition than most writings from the age he had seen due to their underground preservation. They only needed restoration and to be finally translated and Theodore volunteered himself for the job.

 

 

For many days and nights he would spent hours translating the pages and restoring them to their former glory. Bit by bit, word by word, the story within the pages began to unravel leaving Theodore intrigued. To think that Helen had a son of Troy, it was unthinkable, scandalous, and completely revolutionary. It was his crowning achievement.

At the age of 29, he was a bachelor. He had no need for any human interaction beyond his students, fellow archaeologists, and an old from his college years. He was not an ugly man by any means, just average with mousy brown hair, eyes, and a square jaw. He had had many admirers over the years but none had captured his imagination or held his attention for long like his work. He figured everything was better this way; his social skills were deplorable, to say the least.

Years went by and the the world around him changed while he stayed in the past, immersed in his research. Many of his colleagues called him insane but he laughed them away. They didn't touch the papyrus, feel their textures, or read the rich story within. However, something bothered him about the text, it had no author.

When searching about the other houses they had found nothing as to who the recluse man was. It was a puzzling mystery and no matter how many times he went back to that home he could not find a thing about the man who lived there besides the story. Not had he found an appropriate title for the work.

Abandoning Ilion? No. The Wayfinder? Atrocious! Snowy Linen? What was he thinking? Potential titles piled up beside his desk in the rubbish bin. Then, it hit him. Anonymia Eoptenia, unknown story.  _Perfect._

Theodore laid back in his chair, exhausted from the night's endless work. He finally had a title for the thing, now what? His cellphone began to ring and he picked it up without question with a mild sense of annoyance. The damn thing had been ringing off the hook for the past several months and never from the same number.

"Hello," Theodore said into the receiver.

"Theodore where the hell have you been?"

 That snotty tone. It had to be his old college friend.

"James," Theodore found himself smiling. "How are you?"

"Don't even attempt to change the subject," The man sounded like he was ready to kill someone. Theodore swallowed hard. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been sort of busy working-" he began.

"I know. I read the newspaper. I'm not blind. You could have at least called me to let me know how you were doing."

He rubbed his neck nervously and peered towards the manuscript on his desk.

"You don't have to worry. I'm doing fine," He said absently. "Look, I got something for you to look at."

There was silence on the other line for a moment. Theodore had to check if James was still on the line.

"That myth of yours?"

"Yeah, that."

"Okay fine," A heavy sigh was heard on the other line. "Bring it in tomorrow. I'll be in my office. My secretary will ring you up."

"Thank you so much," Theodore was so sure the man was going to refuse. He had to be sure to make it up to him later. Maybe some drinks? James was known to enjoy his liquor.

"Don't mention it. Just promise me something."

"Yeah, what?"

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

Theodore halted his celebratory spin in his chair.  _James..._

"I promise."


	3. One God Against Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the prologue, the Olympians gather to discuss the fate of Helen's child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to those who are reading and enjoying my story. If you wanted a better picture of what Hades looks like, I imagine him as Tom Hiddleston. It didn't start off that way however. *sobs* As I was writing down the plot outline for this, I originally, instead of Hades, was going to have Apollo. Things changed as I began to write this chapter, however.

A meeting was called on Mount Olympus. The usual calm and gay atmosphere of the holy mountain was now tense with an undercurrent of malicious glee that would make many a mortal shiver. The leaders of the meeting were Zeus and Hera. Zeus's golden locks cascaded down upon his shoulders like waves upon a sandy shore.

His handsome and timeless face was pinched with aggravation. His wife, sister and queen, Hera, held no emotion on her gorgeous face. Her red hair was held up by a clasp and reached to the middle of her back. Around them sat the mischievous messenger Hermes. His face was blank and his legs were crossed in a bored manner. He bobbed his head from side to side, humming a tune to himself and swishing his bronze curls with his every movement.

The others looked at him with distaste. Next to him was Poseidon, Hades, Apollo and Ares. Hades's face was also pinched, matching his brother Zeus's. He wished to be anywhere but with Poseidon and his dark auburn beard, Apollo with his hair of gold that nearly rivaled his father's and the other deities. The only one who looked more displeased than him was Ares who wore a clouded and stormy expression.

No one said a word and the silence was deafening. Hermes scowled and uncrossed his legs, hovering several inches off the ground.

"Well, are we going to talk or not?" he asked impatiently.

"You are very much welcome to leave and go back to your harp Hermes," Hera replied curtly.

He opened his mouth to retort, thought about it and then clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't play his music in such a stifling atmosphere, and, besides, he was curious about why Hera and Zeus had called them. With his silence, Hera faintly smiled.

"I'm sure you are all wondering why I called you," her voice was sharper than knives.

"Helen has birthed a child. The child comes from the seed of the fallen royal family of Troy, the seed of Deiphobus," her voice became higher and more frustrated with each word. Hades was the only one unaffected by her hysterics.

He saw right through her. Since she had not won that confounded golden apple for being the most beautiful from Paris, Hera had been on a vengeful vendetta against all connected to the man who did not choose her. Even though the war was over and Paris long since dead-he had seen his soul himself-she still felt it necessary to go after those closest to him, which was his cousin Aeneas and now this unnamed infant. He found it all very petty.

"...The midwife was close to being rid of it, however," she snarled.

"Solon of Crete got in her way," she said with a voice that was laced with the breathy tones of one that was maniacal.

Hades had heard enough, and he stared her straight in the eyes. He was taken aback by how much hatred their was inside her smokey grey eyes, and it was all for a new born child. A sense of dismay and pity washed over him like cold water over the dangerous life the poor boy was set to have.

"You are being irrational Hera," Hades hissed to her.

"I agree," spoke up Poseidon. "You speak with much hatred over a small child you have not seen."

Hera whipped around to Poseidon's direction and glared at him.

"You speak of irrational hatred and yet you still keep Odysseus away from his home for something he has already apologized for," she said coldly.

Zeus's eyes shot back and forth between the three of them, his anger mounting. He watched Hera, Hades and Poseidon argue while the other gods chatted amongst themselves. They were frivolous that way, nothing ever keeping their attention for long. Zeus had seen enough.The meeting had gone way out of hand to the point of madness. He rose abruptly from his throne, and the noise around him stopped.

"That is enough," he thundered. The childishness of it all irritated him to no end.

"This I proclaim, Hera you shall not touch the boy."

She once more began to speak and the gaze in his eyes silenced her.

"As long as he is under the guidance and watchful eye of Solon he will live his life in blissful ignorance," he told her calmly.

"We need someone to watch him," she countered. "Once he learns his heritage he will want revenge for his fallen house."

"Then do you have a suggestion of whom we can chose?" Zeus asked wearily.

"Hades seems to love him! Let him watch!"

"Hermes shall watch him, and he shall report to me about the boy," Zeus said.

The messenger god lazily saluted him with a half smile.

"Got it Zeus," he said brightly.

"Do not come in contact with him Hermes," Zeus warned. "He must must not know that we are watching him."

"Fine, fine." Hermes waved away his worries. Zeus sighed heavily.

"Then this meeting is over."

Hades moved swift as the shadows that lingered in the passages of his domain.The Fates were his destination. After the fiasco in Olympus he just had to see them. Those looks that Hera had given him-he knew the boy was in grave danger. She wasn't going to let him live.

His hair, as dark as night, was laid flat over his shoulders, and his eyes were black and intense. On his body was a chiton, fastened about his shoulder with a silver brooch. The long garment's wooly fabric brushed against the sides of his ankles with every step. Unlike Zeus's kingdom, his was filled with the moaning souls of the dead and had a dreary atmosphere. Due to this, he could never go to Olympus and interact with his fellow gods as often, except on special occasions.

 _And with good reason_ , he thought sneering. Despite their old age they still acted like children. He was better off with the dead. They didn't start rivalries with infants. In his throne room stood the Fates, their eyebrows furrowed impatiently. The only resemblance to a smile on their old, haggard faces were their eyes, narrowed and taunting him.

"So you have finally come Hades," they said in unified manner. He inclined his head to them in acceptance.

"Yes, I have come to ask about the child born from Helen," he said.

Now the smiles appeared, and Hades shivered.

"The child resides with the merchant Solon and his wife and other son," they replied. Despite their desolate appearance, their voices were gorgeous.

"But that is not your question is it?" Clotho said.

"He will face much hardship," Lachesis said soon after.

"Once he learns who he is," Atropos finished.

Hades frowned. He had had a bad feeling that that was going to be the case.

"Then I must do something," he muttered to himself.

It was obvious to him that Hermes couldn't be relied upon to watch the boy. He'd have to do it himself. It was a stunning revelation that sent him reeling. Was he ready to take on his sister and not only that, the queen of the gods? He had no other choice in the matter. The Fates watched him unblinkingly.

"What is the boy's name?" he asked in a defeated tone.

"The boy's name is Abaddon," Hades winced. The boy was named for ruination and destruction; more for Hera to use against him.

"But Solon has given him a new name, one that does not curse the child, Vangelis."

Hades nodded and bid them farewell. They watched his back closely until he could no longer be seen.

"Hades, without knowing, has begun to set the boy's fate in motion," Clotho said and within her hands was a bright, golden thread.

"If only he knew about his future passion."

"Which will lead to the Child's destruction."

It was not often that she came to Olympus. As a matter of fact, the last time she had come uninvited and caused one of the greatest wars in history. Eris smirked nostalgically. The irony that Hera, the one most injured for not being given the golden apple and proclaimed the most beautiful goddess, would call upon her was not lost on Eris. It was amusing really to see her so desperate.

The meeting place was an empty grove, and Hera had the face of a petulant child not given sweets. Amusing, Eris thought, her smirk growing. More and more Hera was descending into madness from Zeus's affairs. The cold and festering humiliation created the woman now shooting Eris a venomous look.

"You're late!" Hera hissed bitingly.

Eris held back a snark response and simply tossed her chestnut brown hair, her black eyes holding more mischief than Hermes himself.

"Why the impatience Hera? It doesn't become you." She said teasingly.

Hera didn't even bother to answer her and instead continued on, ranting.

"Zeus and the others do not see my point of view, especially that damned Hades," Hera paced along the grass. Eris didn't even try to conceal her grin.

"The family of the house of Priam must be slain until not a drop of their blood is left. That includes this infant. Eris," Eris tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"Hermes is stupid and will try to interact with the child the first opportunity he gets. Watch them and bring me back any and all information on the boy," Hera demanded.

Eris giggled and disappeared into a cloud of black smoke. She was going to enjoy the next few years. She was, after all, the goddess of discord.


	4. Forging Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vangelis had always been a curious child. However, the questions he asked, his parents gave no answer. His mother avoided and changed the subject while his father merely stared at him with that disapproving look that he knew was a signal that the conversation was over.

Vangelis had always been a curious child. However, the questions he asked, his parents gave no answer. His mother avoided and changed the subject while his father merely stared at him with that disapproving look that he knew was a signal that the conversation was over. He didn't ask for much, just why he appeared so different from his family. He was light haired with gray eyes while his family had dark hair. Even at the age of six he knew he didn't fit in.

His parents had told him once that he looked like an uncle from his mother's side but he was sceptical. He had never seen this uncle and when asked about him his mother, with her frazzled brown hair and dark blue eyes, kept glancing back to his father who would quickly told him to go outside and play with his brother and he would grudgingly go. He didn't like his brother Simonides. He was three years older than him, a direct clone of his father and his favorite pastime was bullying and his favorite target was Vangelis.He and his friends would gang up on him and he would come home with many untold bruises on his body. Many times his mom would ask where they came from and he just couldn't tell her.

"I fell down amongst the rocks," he would say and leave it at that.

He couldn't say anything about his brother. Simonides was the golden boy, the one who the village boys looked up to and was the one to gain father's inheritance. Not to mention he acted like an angel at home. Vangelis mostly avoided him as much as he could, spending his time in a grove hidden behind his home. It had lush greenery and it was a place where he could be himself and relax away from his family. It was also, where he met him.

Hermes quirked an eyebrow as he observed the boy. He was behind a tree watching, carefully, his every move.He had a cut on his forehead that was bleeding in tiny, scarlet droplets and dark purple bruises covered his arms. Despite this he didn't cry. The cold, hard and steely gaze of hatred was all he saw in the boy's eyes.

He was tough for one who barely reached Hermes hip. Then, slowly but surely, Hermes saw one stray tear escape and trickle down his cheek. Then another and another until the child's small body trembled with his sobs. Hermes took a hesitant step towards him with the sound of Zeus's command hammering in his head. He was not to come in contact with the boy but found he could not keep his promise.

He hovered over to him and landed in front of him. The boy's wide, gray eyes stared at him as his mouth trembled. His chin was soaked with unwiped tears. An unuttered question hung between them.

"Hermes. Nice to meet you,"

The god sat leisurely beside him and wiped one cheek with his thumb. He really did look like Helen down to his very toes. He was a beautiful child. And he would make a gorgeous lad, Hermes thought to himself. He was glad he was given the job to watch him instead of his brother Apollo. His love for beautiful boys was his downfall.

"My name is Vangelis." he said while wiping the tears off his face with his bare arm.

"I shall take care of you from now on. This I promise you."

Vangelis shot him a doubting look and then, hesitantly, laid his head across Hermes lap. The messenger god smiled softly and stroked the boy's blond curls tenderly. They were both unaware of the dark presence watching them.

Eris couldn't hold back her excitement. Hera's hypothesis had been correct, Hermes couldn't stay away from the boy for long. He also already seemed to have feelings for the child. Amusing, she thought, but not unexpected. He is Helen's child after all.

She wondered for a moment if she should tell Hera about this delightful new development then shook her head mirthfully. The ace was in her hands now. She would say that they met and nothing more.

Hades didn't know whether to curse or let out a sigh of relief that his prediction was correct. To slug his nephew for being so foolish would have been the greatest feeling in the world at that moment. He couldn't allow for himself to be seen, however, only when something went wrong. But, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone besides himself was also watching the pair with a more sinister purpose. He wondered for a moment if it was Hera; it didn't seem like her style.

He snuck towards the dark aura just in time to see Eris transport away. Now he cursed. He hadn't accounted for Hera to use Eris, the most hated goddess besides Aphrodite. Then again, he hadn't accounted for it making it brilliant. He supposed that even within madness there was intelligence. Hades knew he could take on Hera, but he couldn't take on Eris also.. He, too, needed a partner, someone who was just as hated. Ares, he smirked. He was the brute of the gods, hot-headed and all around unpleasant to be around. Of course, after his "scandalous" affair with Aphrodite no one really messed with him anymore. Even during the meeting he was apart from the rest,sitting there quietly steaming while the other talked around him.

With his loneliness and due to his lesser wit he would be an easy god to manipulate. He sighed heavily and glared daggers in Hermes's direction. You damned fool, he thought tiredly. You have no idea what you have started. He looked on with an inexplicable sadness washing over him.

"Hermes..."

"Hmm?"

The day was pleasant enough, warm with a slight breeze through the dancing trees. Vangelis laid there against Hermes's side, his torso wrapped by his right arm. Many days had occured since their first meeting and the boy had gotten used to, and grown addicted to, his presence. He would run to the forest after his breakfast and wait for the god steadfastly. He almost couldn't believe that the messenger wanted to be friends with him.

What made him so special? He pondered this question frequently through the night and instantaneously felt guilty. His father had always told him never to question a god's gift. He would stare at him with his intense black eyes whilst saying it, his lips pulled into a straight line and his hands gripping the boys shoulder's in his iron grasp. Vangelis would nod, silently agreeing as to not anger him further. 

He seemed to be doing that frequently these days. It was as if he could do no right in his father's eyes. Even the most heinious of Simonides's tricks was liable to get Vangelis a beating with the rod that swung frightfully on his parent's door. Hermes's laugh, his jokes, his presence, they were his only solstace in the world. 

"Will you always be my friend?" he asked quietly.

Hermes was silent and inwardly cursing. Had the boy grown that attached?  _Have I grown that attached?_  The answer to both was yes. His duty was merely to watch him alone and yet, here he was, shirking his duties as the God's Messenger, and being the boy's little playmate. And enjoying it all the same. 

 _And to think I put judgement on Apollo. Am I worse than Apollo?_ He looked down at the child and could see tears once more swimming in those expressive grey eyes of his. Like the sap he was hermes wiped them and pressed a kiss to Vangelis's cheek. 

"Of couse I shall forever be your friend. You can always count on me!"

Vangelis hugged him tighter, his smile wider than the River Styx. Hermes felt his heart constrict and glanced away towards the trees.  _Please forgive me Vangelis. I will do what I must to protect you._

 _  
_Hera paced back and forth , creating almost a pathway with her foot falls. Eris was late. Had something gone wrong? Was she spotted by Hermes? A dark anxiety washed over her even as the goddess in question appeared in front of her, grinning madly.

"Where have you been?" she hissed to her, eliciting an eyeroll in response. 

"The whole thing went on longer than expected," Eris told her casually drawling out her words.

"Well? What happened?"

"Hermes is a fool. Just as you predicted. Rejoice," Eris, however, held up a hand to stop her just as she was about to do just that," however a new person appeared that I know you will be very interested to hear about."

Hera had no time for Eris's mind games.

"Oh, and who was it? Hades?" Hera laughed bitterly. She still could not forgive the god's insolence. Who was a simple underworlder to question her? The queen of all gods!

"Exactly that," Hera paused in her laughter," I saw him appear from the corner of my eye just as I was about to head to you."

So Hades was to be her enemy?  _So be it._ She had to hit him where it hurt him the most. An idea sprung into her mind and she turned to Eris, her smile nefarious.

"Let us give Persephone a little visit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (How I feel about this chapter Beginning: EVERYTHING SUCKS Hermes on: EVERYTHING WENT BETTER THAN EXPECTED. Don't forget to review!)


	5. Call of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore grinned stiffly while his hands were clamped tightly together in an awkward fashion in his lap. He shivered strongly. James Harvey Matthew's office was arctic in its temperature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I originally deleted the Theodore chapters only to put them back up again because I really liked the character and that I realized he had a bigger part to play in the story. I guess I just suck at foresight. It's a good thing I saved them on Google Documents or else I would have been screwed.

_**Present Day: London, April 2012** _

"Theo, your grammar is atrocious,"

Theodore grinned stiffly while his hands were clamped tightly together in an awkward fashion in his lap. He shivered strongly. James Harvey Matthew's office was arctic in its temperature. On the Irishman's fine mahogany desk was a miniscule, white fan that was outputting air on its highest level. Theodore thought of it as appropriate.

With a head of neatly combed dirty blonde hair,grey eyes, an overly serious deposition and hawkish face-James was known as an intimidating presence in the British publication industry. He was also one of Theodore's closest friends,and occasional lover, from his naive college days. Theodore had assisted him in acquiring his business with some money he had received from his father's untimely demise. He had been newly fresh from his graduation from Birmingham when the mournful news reached his ears. He remembered the day clearly-an unwelcome stamp on the pleasant memories of his early graduate days.

 In the twilight years of the ninties, Theodore lived in a modest flat on a modest street in London. He weaved through his apartment like a man on a mission, his eyes darting about taking in his various things and trinkets . In the background on a metallic radio, was the soft melody of an old jazz song, known to only those who had memories of the decadent twenties. Outside in the streets of London, there was a light drizzle and the rain fell like pellets onto his transparent windows. Gray clouds moved about aimlessly in the heavens, pushed by an invisible wind.  

Content with his inventory check, Theodore zipped up his burgundy suitcases and set them up against his living room table. A relieved and ecstatic smile now grew on his face, slicing it in half and flashing a bit of glowing handsomeness seen only by those not blind enough to see it. His once ancient histories professor had called upon some of his best students to join him on an archeological dig on the boot molded country of Italy.  

Although he had obtained his Bachelor's as a Greek History major, he couldn't resist the temptation. It was Rome after all, the once ancient empire spanning from Europe to Asia that suddenly collapsed without a sign. The phone began to ring solidly and Theodore's mouth went dry. It was his father.   

His father had been suffering from lung cancer for a while, a product of his life long love of cigars. Theodore visited him weekly and drove him to the hospital for treatments. However, as time went on the treatments no longer worked and he watched his father waste away silently until he was but a shell of the man he once was. Theodore had no mother, she had supposedly died when he was very young. His father had been all he had, it was them against the world. He couldn't lose him as well!   

Still, the phone kept ringing with that dastardly cheerful ringtone until it stopped, giving him only seconds of relief before it started up again in earnest. Mechanically, he moved towards the phone, his feet dragging against the carpet every step of the way. He trembled as he piled up the phone, almost dropping it with his sweaty palms. The person on the other side was a female and had a breathy voice as if she had just ran a marathon.   

"I'm sorry Mr. Lowsley, but your father,"  

The nurse went on and on but Theodore had long since then closed his ears. After a few minutes, he hung up the phone and called his professor. He wouldn't be going on the trip. The next few weeks, had been filled with funeral preparations. Theodore had held back his tears for as long as he could at the funeral itself then, in his car on the way back to his apartment, he sobbed and cried out to the man he had called father.  

His father's lawyer met with him for his inheritance, several thousand pounds and an old fifties bottle opener. He didn't want the money, he wanted his father back. He clutched the bottle opener close to his heart. His father used to carry it around with him everywhere.  

As a young lad, he would always ask where his father had acquired the thing and his father would always get this strange, far off look in his eyes.   

"It was a gift from someone." and he would leave it at that.  

The opener was painted with golden paint, that was chipped from age and wear, with a detailed map of Greece on one side and the Parthenon surrounded by a small heavenly glow on the other. It wasn't his father, but it soothed the pain, having a piece of him no matter how small. A month after the funeral, he moved back to Birmingham, and bitterly remembered why he left in the first place.  

It was a lonely place without his dad's bright smile and amazing talent to find the adventure in everything. Only one of his friends visited him, his friend James Matthews. Theodore called him Jimmy much to his chagrin. He didn't talk much, as a matter of fact he didn't really talk at all, but his eyes said it all and that was all Theo needed.   

He had been the one friend at the funeral, the rest had sent their condolences but he had gotten the message quite clear. No one wanted to be around him now that he was a depressed mess and he didn't blame them at all. James had sat next to him as he cried for his father and things left unsaid between them. He had stayed in his arms for a long time. 

A year later, when James asked for help with his publishing company, Theodore was more than happy to oblige and sent him his inheritance. James sent back half and told him to quit being a fool.

 Theodore shoved away the bittersweet memories and adjusted himself in his chair while James speed read through the manuscript.  

"Damn it Jim, I'm a historian not an English teacher!"

 James gave him an unamused look, but he saw the incline on one half of his mouth and grinned himself. It wasn't a smile by any stroke of the imagination, but when it came to Jim it was close.  

"You need to smile more Jimmy," he received a glare. "It won't kill you." Theodore told him.   

"It won't, but you will. Damn it Theo you cunt, you haven't talked to me in years and now you come to me with some Greek myth."  

Theodore cringed. Since that day of his great discovery, he had spurned all relationships to quickly translate the story. He hadn't fully been aware of how much time had flown by until he had checked on a calendar.  _Four_   _years,_ he thought with widening eyes _, astounding._ That meant he was now thirty-three. He wasn't getting any younger that was for sure. He felt older than his own myth.  

"How about we talk over some drinks," he offered." There's a really nice pub down the street from my home that just opened!"  

"Theodore, that pub has been opened for the past two years," James dead panned.  

"Oh, I-"  

"But, I agree. We need to make up for lost time. Besides, it's a much better place to talk about your book than this stuffy place."  

Theodore almost released a sigh of relief. He was turning into an ice cube in his seat.   

"When shall we meet?"  

"Six."  

"That's far too early for drinks," Theodore exclaimed. "How about seven?"  

"No time is too early for alcohol."  

"You Irish bastard, was that a joke?"  

A small smile worked its way up onto James' face. Theodore thought it was a beautiful sight.

 The pub was dimly lit and smokey, giving it a bit of a homey feeling. No one came alone, they all came in little groups and sat in empty booths, or tables. The place was packed to the brim and as noisy as a classroom. Theodore didn't much care for it, but he hadn't talked to Jim in such a long time he figured it was better for them to just meet in a calm setting, a warm setting. The fact that ole Jimmy liked to drink as well helped to pick his location also. He lit a cigarette and took small puffs before beginning to speak.  

"So what did you think?"  

James set back in his chair and downed a shot of ale.  

"It was good, brilliant even," his praise was hesitant. "I just want to know why it kept you in your house like a hermit."  

"I did not stay in that house as long as that! I did go to other places such as the library, the store-" he cut himself off when James gave him the look again.  

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette before leaving it in the ash tray, a small strand of smoke still coming from the lit end.   

"I don't know why. I just- I just felt this pull towards it, a magnetic attraction as if I was chosen to translate it." he wished he was able to put his rollicking thoughts into a coherent sentences but that was the gist of it all.  

He downed his own shot of ale and asked the waitress to bring them a whole bottle. In his pocket, his golden bottle opener began to burn like a lit up charcoal. He withheld his loud yelp. He usually did not bring it to places anymore. A few years after his father's death he had stopped and threw it into a box with some other trinkets, but tonight he had brought it with him after a strong urge to have it went threw him.  

James furrowed his eyebrows.   

"Is something the matter Theo?" he asked in a worried tone.  

"No, I'm fine. I've just got to head to the lavatory." he got up from his chair and bounded to the bathroom.  James looked at his empty spot in the booth and smiled to himself.  _So it has begun_. He had waited a long time for this moment. 

Theodore opened the door and was glad to find it empty. He had no doubt that after a few hours it was going to be a wholly different story. He shoved his hand into his pocket and took out the opener. It surprisingly didn't burn his hand. Instead, both sides glowed with an ethereal blue light.  _What the hell is going on,_  he thought, with his eyes wide.    

It began to shake wildly and he pivoted it between his hands before it slipped and fell to the floor. It stopped shaking suddenly, and Theodore stared at the thing with an incredulous expression.  _This shouldn't be happening_ , he thought. He believed ancient mythology to be fascinating but never believed it was true. It was unearthly still upon the off white ceramic tile of the bathroom.  

Still visibly shaking, Theodore picked it back up and a voice called out to him. A voice that seemed to be as old and wise as time itself.  

"Theodore come to Athens," it echoed inside his mind and he scanned around to check if anyone was playing tricks on him.   

"No one is playing tricks on you Theodore Lowsley. Do you know who I am?"  

The name came to him as swift as the wind.  

"Athena," he whispered. "But, why are you talking to me? How do you know my name?"  

"Come to Athens and meet me at the Parthenon. Then, all the answers to your questions will be reve-"  

"Theodore?"  

Theodore whittled around quickly to find James standing right behind him with a peculiar expression on his face. Theodore straightened himself, pocketed the opener, and greeted his friend with an absent-minded smile.  

"Hi James I was just leaving."  

"Did something happen?" James asked him, his voice laced with concern. His eyes on the other hand beheld something unnerving to Theodore. Then again, his friend had always held a quality of mystery about him, ever since he had met him. 

Theodore shook his head vehemently.   

"Nothing, nothing at all."  

 _Just that I must go to Athens_ , he thought grimly.

 


	6. Blind Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares, the god of warfare, was as deadly as he was handsome. Like his uncle Poseidon, he had a shocking head of auburn hair that curled about his head and fell about his eyes in a lackadaisical manner. His was the most muscular body in Olympus- a hard body that showed off his excessive power. Despite his misgivings, he met Hades in a hidden clearing upon the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last of the "setting up" chapters. This entire section could technically be called Part One of the Story.

Ares, the god of warfare, was as deadly as he was handsome. Like his uncle Poseidon, he had a shocking head of auburn hair that curled about his head and fell about his eyes in a lackadaisical manner. His was the most muscular body in Olympus- a hard body that showed off his excessive power. Despite his misgivings, he met Hades in a hidden clearing upon the Earth. 

It was an emerald haven, home to massive trees whose mangled branches reached far into the wispy clouds of the firmament. They were safer here than in Olympus where any conversation seemed to float on by anyone's ears and became the gossip upon everyone's lips. Hades strode out from the darkness between the trees- a fitting entrance for the god of the underworld, Ares thought anxiously- and approached him, his mouth turned up in a pitying half smile. Ares hated pity more than anything and scowled at Hades.

"What do you want of me Hades," he hissed. "I don't need your pity-"

"I need your assistance."

Ares was made speechless by such bluntness. He had not expected the reason of him being called to be revealed to him so soon.

"I understand that you have not been useful since our war against Iliad ended," Hades continued.

Ares couldn't deny this fact and clenched his teeth to the point of shattering them. Peace was amongst Greece, only to be interrupted by the occasional human tiff that usually involved his sister Aphrodite. He was useless at the moment, a dead weight, and spent his time loitering about Olympus's meadows.

"And so," he had almost forgotten Hades was speaking. Contrary to his dark looks, the man had a melodious voice that was enough to make the Fates green with jealousy. Ares wasn't even sure his uncle was aware of it. "I would like your assistance in defeating Hera."

Ares lifted his chin proudly. 

"What makes you think I won't refuse?"

"And do what?" Hades scoffed. "Frolic about the blossoms like you normally do?"

"Why you-!"

"Do it," Hades said blankly. That pitying smile was back on his face. "Attack me. Maim me. Do what you will to me. It will preserve your fragile ego but only make the others hate you more after your affair with Aphrodite."

Ares's fist fell like a stone at his side. Hades watched him quietly, not smiling nor frowning. The brute was playing right into his hands just as planned. The god of the underworld felt guilt and yet knew it had to be done for the greater good. Ares was sure to appreciate being able to actually go out into the human world like he used to instead of brooding in his meadows.

"I-I shall do this for you," Ares said haltingly.

Hades quirked an eyebrow, and a half smile decorated his features. 

"You must pledge on the River Styx."

Ares didn't know what Hades needed done, but they only pledged on the River Styx during times of war and conflict. It was not a pledge that was taken lightly.

"What is it you need done that requires such a serious pledge?"

"I need you to spy for me."

"Spy? Who do you take me for Hermes?" Ares snarled.

"Hermes is the one that needs watching," Hades replied with pursed lips. 

"What has that boy done now," Hermes was known all around Olympus for his childish jokes and pranks. Ares, unfortunately, had been the receiver of these many times. "Did he steal the crown of the underworld?" he quipped.

"He's put someone's life in danger."

"You are the god of the underworld and you care about one puny human's life?" Ares replied laughing.

Hades had to give him that and smiled warily. 

"It's less work for me if the boy lives," Hades thought it was better if he didn't gives Ares his true motives. 

The god of warfare observed him silently, then sighed deeply.

"I pledge on the River Styx."

 

The Palace of Hades was the one place of light in the dreary underworld. Made of the finest white stone and colorful garden tended to by his wife Persephone, it stood on a large cliff lit by the lean rays of the sun from above. Every year it competed with Zeus's palace for the most beautiful. Persephone had shimmering hair the color of dark chocolate that appeared red in the dimming embers of a fire. Her light violet chiton was draped over her body and was embroidered by a rectangular pattern. She had a heart shaped face and bow shaped lips that were down turned into a frown.

Her husband was gone most days, leaving her alone with her flowers and the spiraling palace. She felt lonely without him. Although he did not always speak to her, his strong presence was enough for her. She held her lilies close to her as she struggled not to cry. She wondered who the other woman was. 

She was no fool; she knew of all the various affairs the men of Olympus had. Zeus's were legendary, and Ares's was exposed for all on the mountain after Hephaestus caught him and Aphrodite in that net. Hades had been a dutiful husband in comparison, kind and a wonderful lover. What was it that finally made him tire of her? Her constant absences to be back with her mother? 

"Poor, poor Persephone." Hera's pitying voice sent a shiver down her spine. 

"Vile woman why do you seek me? I am not a puppet of yours to be played with!" Persephone hissed. 

She didn't know what the woman desired, but the baleful glint in the goddess's eyes indicated a more malign purpose. The queen goddess shimmered in the engulfing darkness of the underworld, aglow with the light of heavenly Olympus. 

"Vile woman," she smiled as though entertaining a child. "I am the protector of marriage and I only wish to save yours." 

"What are you implying?" Persephone asked, her stance faltering. 

And so I finally find a kink in her armor. Hera's smile grew. 

"Oh you poor child, I had hoped you had already known of Hades's infidelity." 

"Who is she?" she cried out. 

"It is worse than a she my dear," the look of utter dejection on Persephone's face was almost too much for Hera to bear. If only Hades wasn't interfering with her plans then both he and his wife would be spared. "It is a young boy." 

The lilies which Persephone held in her hands fell to the dirt and crumpled with their planter. 

"You lying wretch! Hades is faithful to me! He would never-" 

"So quick are you to defend the monster that abducted you from your mother's arms and forcibly took your virginity," Hera interjected coldly. 

Persephone trembled where she stood. Even as she put on a brave front with her hands molded into fists, tears burned within her eyes. 

"Follow him to Earth. Only then will you know the truth." 

Hera placed a hand on Persephone's cheek and caressed it softly, whispering soothing nothings into her ear. When the goddess left, Persephone collapsed to the ground sobbing. The crushed lilies disintegrated and flew into the air.


	7. Late Days of Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vangelis my precious boy, he thought sadly. When he had adopted the boy all those years ago, he had made a promise to the gods to look after him. He had turned his back on his promise. Shameful, why has not Zeus struck me down yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the poem The Old Familiar Faces by Charles Lamb with a slight change. I usually take lines from either the Illiad or the Odyessy for titles but, I wanted to try something new. This was my longest and favorite chapter to write. It was originally split up into two chapters, however, i just decided to go with combining the two since the other one was far too short to justify its own chapter.
> 
> This is the link to the song used: http://homoecumenicus.com/ioannidis_sappho_aphrodite.htm

The boy was growing up beautifully. At the tender age of eight, he had already surpassed Narcissus in beauty with his golden locks, bow-like scarlet lips and stormy grey eyes that held in them a sadness beyond his years. He was every inch Helen with a masculine swank, and Hades found himself as enraptured with him as he had once been with Persephone when he first saw her all those millennia ago frolicking among the flowers of her mother’s garden. He was more damned than those who swam the dank waters of the Tartarus.

Yet no matter how deep his growing affection for the boy was he did not go to him. It was his foolhardy nephew Hermes that did, and seeing them both together arose within him the savage beast of jealousy. No, the boy had came to him.  
  
It was one fine evening, when the crisp summer sun’s light tickled the leaves of Abaddon’s, nay Vangelis’s hideaway. Hermes had left the boy after he had talked on and on about his new and only friend Ikaros. Hades could see that Hermes grew angrier and angrier as the boy went on but could not pinpoint the cause of his anger. It amused the God of the Underworld to know that his nephew too struggled with the sudden desire.  
  
The swift-footed messenger eventually left in a huff, mumbling about a mission from Zeus. An excuse no doubt to make a quick getaway. Vangelis did not look affronted by his sudden absence, only silently thoughtful. Hades turned and nodded at Ares who quickly followed Hermes back to Olympus. Eris had not appeared this meeting, giving Hades a sick feeling inside that Hera was planning something.  
  
He made a turn to leave as well when movement from Vangelis made him pause in his steps. The young lad moved his finger to and fro wanting someone to come to him, and Hades knew in his heart that Vangelis wanted him.  
  
“I must not come out,” he said.  
  
“You have been watching me since I was six,” Vangelis told him, shocking Hades with his observation skills. “Who are you who hides in the shadows?”  
  
Hades took a few steps into the sunlight that streamed through the leaves.  
  
“I am Hades,” he said simply and felt a stab of ill-humor when Vangelis released a childish gasp.  
  
“A-are you here to take me to the Underworld?” the boy whispered.  
  
“No, I am merely a silent watcher.”  
  
Vangelis nodded, and the fear that was in his eyes disappeared as quickly as it came.  
  
“Then you are not the god that everyone says you are.”  
  
“Oh, and what do people say about me?” A small, crooked smile grew on Hades’s face.  
  
The stories which the mortals made up about him were greatly amusing.  
  
“That you kidnap souls against their will and drag them into the Tartarus,” Vangelis said.  
  
“Mere stories I assure you,” he moved closer to the child and watched as he unconsciously took a step back in return.  _So the fear has not entirely disappeared_ , he thought with a frown.  
  
“Only those whose time has run out come with me to the Underworld.”  
  
“A person’s time can run out at any given moment.”  
  
“And yet many of you mortals live as though you are immortal as a god,” Hades retorted.  
  
Vangelis looked away from him meekly, and he instantly regretted his harsh tone. Vangelis was not the cause of his forefathers follies. Hades placed a comforting hand on the boy’s head, causing the blond to shiver. The clammy cold of the dead was still upon him. He retracted his hand.  
  
“Please forgive me for disturbing your tranquility,” Hades said bitterly. He turned around to leave but was shocked when Vangelis grabbed his hand and held it within his small soft one.  
  
“Will I see you again?” he sounded every bit like the boy he was for the first time. It came to Hades that the boy’s constant presence with gods were affecting him in someway. He just didn't know if it was for the best or the worst.  
  
“What need do you have for the God of Darkness?” Hades quipped.  
  
“I do not have many friends. The only one I have is Ikaros.”  
  
“Does Hermes not meet your criteria for a friend?”  
  
Hades could not entertain the thoughts of being with the boy, yet he could not stop the hopeful tone which invaded his normally snarky baritone voice.  
  
“I do not know where I stand with him,” Vangelis said honestly. “We only meet once every year.”  
  
So Hermes was keeping his distance? Interesting to say the least. This was his chance to get closer to the boy.  _And get his heart._  He violently pushed away the thought.  
  
“We can only meet once a week. After all, I have an underworld to run,” he replied flippantly.  
  
Vangelis’s smile was like that of a cherub’s. Hades forced himself to not look away from the boy’s splendor. He could not remember the last time he had encountered such innocence. His own wife Persephone had been anything but an unblossomed flower when he first met her.  
  
“Please,” Vangelis grew closer and Hades’s hand trembled within his. The boy smelt of lilies. “Could you address me by my name?”  
  
Hades faced him and cupped his cheek tenderly. Hades could have sworn at his back that he heard a gasp and a sob of some sort.  _That can’t be. I must be hearing things._  
  
“Vangelis.”  
  
The son of Helen still stood there trembling when Hades had left. What were these feelings sprouting within his heart?  
  


 

“So now you see.”  
  
Persephone looked up from her tears to see Hera who stood there with Eris who looked absolutely giddy. She hated her with a passion, hated them both. She did not want to admit they had been right about Hades...her mother had been right about Hades. She wished to go back to her times of naivete where she was just his simple wife and stayed out of his affairs. She had seen too much.  
  
Hades... and that boy. That damned boy! She recognized the look that had been in Hades eyes. It had been the same look he had when he first met her in the fields.  
  
“I am sorry Persephone,” Hera said softly.  
  
 _No you aren’t,_  she thought with her lips trembling. Hera patted her head as if she were a small child and vanished along with Eris who smirked in her general direction. They left her to the loud roar of her thoughts. She couldn’t stay in the palace any longer. Not while the heart of Hades belonged to another. She had known his affection for her would dwindle.  
  
She was merely a toy, entertainment for the God of the Dead. She kept her head high as she silently packed her things.  _Goodbye Hades my love._  
  


 

“Solon he is looking more and more like her everyday.”  
  
“Elpis please calm yourself before someone hears you!” the trader hissed.  
  
“How can I when I go to the market and hear everyone’s vile whispers? They say he is a bastard son born from your intercourse with a siren,” she cried out.  
  
“Let them talk all they like. It is he who we should-”  
  
“Father?”  
  
Solon whipped around and stared at Simonides who stood there in the wooden doorway. He ran up to his son, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him fiercely as his wife begged him to stop. The madness of his Minoan ancestors was upon him.  
  
“Did you hear anything boy?” he yelled.  
  
“No, of course not father.”  
  
His voice sounded innocent and his eyes were ignorant. Solon released the sigh he had been holding deep in his chest and his son.  
  
“Good, what is it you desire my son?” he asked in a much softer tone.  
  
“You promised to show me the trade today father. I am turning thirteen today,” he said, bouncing back and forth on his heels and toes, excitement prominent in his voice.  
  
“That you are my son, that you are. We shall have a large banquet in celebration! Where is your brother?”  
  
Simonides crinkled his nose and Solon resisted commenting.  
  
“He is with that friend of his, playing Zeus only knows where.”  
  
He had long since stopped looking for his brother’s hideaway and harbored a deep resentment towards him for it. What was he hiding? And for that matter, what were his parents hiding? He had caught the last throes of his parent’s conversation, and it sent his mind whirling. Vangelis was a bastard?  
  
He had thought it for quite some time, and to hear it validated sent a thrill of dark glee through him. Ever since his father had brought him home, his mother had turned her attention to their new child and hadn't thought of Simonides since. He was jealous of his younger brother and while he was stronger and more capable, Vangelis was the more attractive of the two brothers by far, turning many a head in their village of Canea. When his father took them both to town, it was his younger brother who gained all the attention. What made him angry was that he pretended to be ignorant of his good looks.  
  
What Simonides wouldn't give to have his blond locks and his feminine, almost cherub-like, face.  
  
“We will worry about him later,” Solon said, interrupting Simonides’ thoughts. His face looked troubled.  
  
“Let’s head to the harbor. There is much to be done. I must invite all to my son’s becoming of a man.”  
  
Solon was a respected member of his village and a trusted sailor and trader. His roots could be traced back to Crete’s ancestors and he wore his Minoan heritage proudly, occasionally praying to goddesses of the old religion.  
  
 _Yes_ , Simonides thought darkly,  _we will worry about him later._  
  


 

“Today is my brother’s birthday,” Vangelis whispered. “Usually by now, my mother is preparing the dinner while father gathers the guests, using his lineage as though that will gain everyone’s pity.”  
  
“Why do you not join her my friend?” his friend Ikaros said softly, his emerald eyes sparkling with unasked questions.  
  
“My brother has always hated and bullied me with his many friends in the village.”  
  
Vangelis rested his head on his knees and his eyes over the pure white stones on the harbor below. He saw his brother with his chest puffed up like a peacock, on his father’s heels and talking, bragging it looked like to Vangelis, to the sailors and merchants around him who were too bemused at his antics to chastise him.  
  
“It’s always been an unspoken law between us that I disappear while everyone else is celebrating. Lest I “grab a hold of everyone’s attention”. “ he smiled sadly.  
  
“Will your parents be angry with you?” Ikaros asked, reaching over and grabbing his hand.  
  
Ikaros had a head of dark brown hair that could appear black in certain lighting- the same as everyone else in the village. His most intriguing feature were his eyes that were a striking and deep green. Vangelis and he had met in the market when Vangelis had been running from Simonides and his goons while his father was away making a purchase. Ikaros had seen the poor boy and hid him away from his brother, no questions asked, behind his parent’s winery, the only one in town and the finest in all of Canea. He had acquired Vangelis’s friendship then and they had been close to each other ever since that day.  
  
“Yes, usually they are lenient with me however, there will be a plethora of people there wondering where I am. My father will not be happy. He will take this as a slight against him and his reputation.”  
  
Recently his father had become cold to Vangelis, barely sparing a glance towards the lad. His mother hurriedly told him that it was stress from his work, but Vangelis knew it was for a different reason. A reason she couldn't, tell him. Out of all his family, Vangelis was closer to his mother who coddled him daily. He found her coddling tiresome, for he was only but three years away from being a man, however he valued her affection in a house where he got so little.  
  
“I’m sure it won’t be as horrible as you think. What could your brother do with all those people watching?”  
  
 _Oh Ikaros, he can do plenty of things_. It was times like this where he wished he was with Hades. Hades knew of his brother’s true character and would have agreed with him to not go. He couldn't wait to see the god and feel his hands caressing his head. Vangelis felt his face heat up tremendously and attempted to hide it the best he could from his friend Ikaros who gazed at him with a puzzled expression. The infatuation he had with the dark god was mortifying.  
  
Hades was always there for him, lending an ear to his, as he would always call them playfully, pitiful mortal problems. He listened to them all the same, no matter how mundane, and offered his wise counsel. Vangelis, now that he had spent many an hour in his company, couldn't figure out why the people around him feared Hades. He was charming, witty, bitingly so, and handsome, whilst being unconventionally so. While Zeus was shown to be rugged, Hades was more thin in appearance with high cheekbones and long lashes.  
  
If Vangelis could concentrate enough, he could feel him beside him, wrapping his arms around his torso, and gently putting his-  
  
“Vangelis?” came the voice of Ikaros, cutting into his fantasy.  
  
“Wha- Yes?!”  
  
Vangelis’s blush grew redder. He was caught fantasizing about Hades, again. He had been doing it too many times as of late. Ikaros would simply sit in wonder at where his friend’s mind was traveling to that got him so flustered. Was it a girl in the village?  
  
“It is getting late,” said Ikaros as he got up from his perch by the harbor and dusted off his garment.  
And it was. The sun was now replaced by the pure white moon, the work of Helios no doubt. He reluctantly joined his, dusting himself off as well.  
  
“I guess you’re right. Let’s go.”  
  
They walked briskly to Vangelis’s home with Ikaros wanting to talk and Vangelis lost in his thoughts giving him merely one word answers and grunts. Dread was settling deep into the very confines of his stomach. As of now he no longer truly worried for his brother’s choice words but his father's. While the man valued soberness he was known to getting sloshed on such occasions as these. They paused in front of the house and could hear the rousing sounds of singing from within the home, not quite deafening but the sounds of the drunken men could be heard from the outside.  
  
The loudest one being his father. Elpis had lit up every candle in the house it seemed and their house looked to be bathed in light. Vangelis said a swift goodbye to Ikaros and hugged him tightly. Ikaros had half a mind to stay with his friend. However, he knew of his foolish pride and reluctantly left for his own home, with the hopes that Vangelis would be alright.  
  
Vangelis went inside and was met with the sight of his brother at the helm of the table, surrounded by men and woman drunk on wine. The singing was louder now that he was on the inside of the house, and Vangelis could hear the words of the song clearly.  
  
 _Immortal Aphrodite, beautiful-throned, wiles-weaving child of Zeus,  
                     I beg you, Queen, do not torment my heart with sorrow and pain but come and  
                   help me again as you did before when having heard my pleadings from far away  
                  you left your father's golden palace and yoked to your shining chariot swift,  
                lovely sparrows that brought you over the dark earth, moving their thick-feathered wings                       through the sky's bright ether…._  
  
He closed the door behind him and sat at the far end of the room away from the rowdy public’s eye. He prayed to the gods that no one saw his late arrival. He had no such luck.  
  
“Boy?” his father shouted, who stood by Simonides at the head of the table.  
  
“How dare you show up late to your brother’s celebration!”  
  
The man was drunk, evident by his insistent slurring and reddish eyes. Vangelis shrunk in his chair at everyone’s eyes flying in his direction. He did not miss the triumphant look on his brother’s face.  
  
“Father please, I lost track of time.” It was the best lie he could come up with.  
  
“You knew today was special and insisted on being away!” Solon continued bellowing.  
  
Tears he struggled to suppress burned behind Vangelis’s eyes.  
  
“Father…,” he said pathetically.  
  
“Well father, it’s only to be expected from a bas-”  
  
Before Simonides, or Vangelis, could blink, Solon was up and backhanded him across the face. Simonides fell to the floor and groaned, more out of shock than actual pain. Suddenly there were no more songs being sung. The guests watched enraptured as the drama unfolded.  
  
“Solon!” Elpis cried out in horror.  
  
Vangelis got up, knocking down his chair.  
  
“I’m sorry I ruined the celebration,” he said miserably.  
  
He fled into the night, faintly hearing his mother call his name. He didn’t stop running until he collapsed on the forest floor of his hideaway, sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
“Hades,” he cried out. “Hades!”  
  
The god appeared swiftly and silently and stared down in absolute bafflement at the hysterical mortal.  
  
“Vangelis…,” he said softly, coming closer to him and settled by his side.  
  
“Please, hold me,” Vangelis said, his bottom lip quivering.  
  
Hades could not say no to those large blue eyes and gathered him into his arms and cooed soothing nothings into his ears until he fell into a troubled sleep, still whimpering into Hades’s criton. He held Vangelis far into the night.  
  
Once Solon had gotten a hold of himself and what he had done he felt suddenly very sober. He sent everybody home, no doubt with the juicy story of him yelling at his ‘love child’ on their lips. He went out to find Vangelis, leaving a disappointed Elpis and a resentful Simonides, who had scampered off to his room after the events had transpired. Despite this, he couldn’t think of them now, his mind was filled with thoughts of Vangelis.  
  
 _Vangelis my precious boy_ , he thought sadly. When he had adopted the boy all those years ago, he had made a promise to the gods to look after him. He had turned his back on his promise.  _Shameful, why has not Zeus struck me down yet?_  
  
He scoured his village for any and all signs of him until the breaking of dawn. His heart hurt as though being stepped on by the sandals of a soldier. Where was his son? He came across a forest like area and in the distance he could see the back of someone’s black criton and tufts of blond hair. Vangelis! But, who was that man he was with?  
  
The man turned to face him and Solon let out a growl and ran up closer to the god.  
  
“Hades!”  
  
The god’s only response to this was a small smirk which only served to get Solon angrier.  
  
“I won’t allow you to take him!”  
  
“Be at peace Solon of Crete. I am not here to take your son.”  
  
A sense of peace washed over Solon at Hades’s silky baritone voice and Vangelis’s behavior all began to make sense.  
  
“It is you he disappears during the day to see,” he proclaimed.  
  
“I am he,” Hades replied with a tilt of his head.  
  
“But, why Vangelis?” Solon struggled to wrap his mind around the concept of the god’s interest.  
  
“I think the sentence you mean to say is why Abaddon?”  
  
Sweat formed on Solon’s brow and that night from all those years ago went through his mind. The midwife. The cliff. Abaddon.  
  
“How do you know-” he began to say.  
  
“He has made a very strong enemy on Mount Olympus. I am one of the few who watch over him,” he stated.  
  
 _One of the few?_  Solon dare not asked how many more gods were watching.  
  
“Are you… his enemy?” he asked at last.  
  
“Nay, only his friend.”  
  
The man of Crete went to ask more questions but was stopped by Hades’s silencing hand.  
  
“Now is not the time. Take the boy. It will soon be morning.”  
  
Solon picked up Vangelis without a word and headed back home, his mind filled with questions. Hades smiled at his back and disappeared back to the Underworld.  
  


 

When Vangelis awoke from his deep slumber the name of the god of death was upon his lips. Where was he? Where was Hades? He gazed about his room and blinked away sudden tears at the sun’s harsh rays through his window. He was...back home?  
  
How? Did Hades bring him back or did-  
  
“Your god is back in the Underworld.”  
  
Vangelis’s heart flew into his throat as his eyes landed on his father who sat in a chair by the door. He looked like he had not slept in ages.  
  
“Father I,” Vangelis swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I ruined your celebration.”  
  
Solon got up from his chair and gathered his son up in a tight embrace.  
  
“Nay my son, it was I who am to be sorry. I allowed my temper to get the best of me.”  
  
Vangelis moved over allowing Solon more room and laid his head on his chest.  
  
“How...how do you know of Hades?” the boy asked  
  
Now that his hideaway had been found he felt... release somewhat. He was rather glad it was his father instead of his brother.  
  
“When I went looking for you,” Solon began his tale breathlessly. “ I found your place by chance. Whether or not the Fates ordained it to be so I do not know. I saw him there clearly, holding you as he would a doll. I thought you were dead. We... we talked some and he revealed that he and others have been watching you.”  
  
“Watching me, what for?” Vangelis asked, furrowing his brow.  
  
“I do not know my son.”  
  
 _But I fear for you more than you can ever know._  
  
“Please do not keep me from him!” he pleaded.  
  
“I will not,” Solon told him with much difficulty. “I only ask that you tell your mother when you will leave till this day on.”  
  
“I promise.”

Vangelis's childhood soon evaporated into adulthood. Fifteen years, he could hardly believe it himself. Neither could his father. Since that night of he and Hades's discovery, he had banned him from the sea and kept him as far away from the docks as possible.  _As if that could stop me._

The cerulean current persisted on calling him and, when not with Hades or Ikaros, he spent most of his time by the rocks, staring out into the waters below. Something was summoning him from beyond the waves, something familiar to him from so long ago, a distant and dimming memory.

_Abaddon._

He shook his head hard and got up from the bedrock stool he had sat upon. The only other person who called him that was Hades when the god thought he was asleep in his arms. Destruction, chaos, who would name a child after such a thing?  _Hades... he has the answers I seek._  He walked on to their hiding place for their next meeting with his head pounding with questions.

Persephone was now gone, vanished like a puff of smoke. He had gone to her mother Demeter's house to plead for her back and was turned away. Hades had expected to be devastated and yet, all he could think was,  _Freedom._  A century, a millennium, was nothing to a mere god but, he found himself impatient to have Vangelis's ripe body beneath his. His obsession had grown far too strong. He was like Icarus who had flown too close to the sun but was too enraptured by its beauty to stop flying.

Vangelis was now fifteen and was almost too gorgeous to be real. He was the only human he had allowed to touch him and touch him Vangelis did, soft innocent touches that brought his blood to a boil. His only competition was Hermes, and he no longer met up with the blonde. Ikaros wasn't a threat either for he liked a young woman within his village.

They sat, Vangelis on Hades's lap, while Hades ran his hands through Vangelis's hair. Vangelis made a soft mewling sound of pleasure.

"Vangelis, I must ask something of you," Hades said quietly, stilling his hands.

Vangelis's blue eyes stared into Hades's, his lips parted and looked perfectly tempting.

"Yes?" he replied.

"What is it you feel for me?" Hades asked cupping his rosy cheek.

"I-I," Hades had to grin. It seemed that he had driven his love speechless. "I am very fond of you Hades."

"Just fondness Vangelis?" he whispered huskily. 

Could he? Could he really tell Hades the feelings that were hidden in his heart? He had told himself over and over that there was not a chance that the god would want him, a young inexperienced boy. Yet, the look in Hades eyes....why did he just now notice it? Was he that much of a fool?

"You are the only one I want and I-"

Hades's lips fell upon his before he could finish his whole confession. All thoughts escaped his mind. Who he was, where they were, and the taboo of their relationship. Hades's sinful lips were the only thing on his mind. 

Due in part to his wife Elpis's brow beating and Vangelis's pleading, he finally allowed him to learn the trade. Much to Solon's surprise Vangelis took to it faster than Simonides ever did. Solon was proud and partly afraid he would awaken from his slumber and find his son gone, off to sea. 

By the time he had turned eighteen, Vangelis, along with his friend Ikaros who followed his son everywhere, had proven himself to be an amazing sailor and trader with his natural charisma, an eye for trade, and his love of the sea.  However, as with everything in life, there was a darkness in presence of the light. He could do naught but watch as his other son Simonides grew hateful in his jealousy. _Or_ , he thought sadly,  _he had always been that way_.

He only hoped on their journey to the Cape of Malea that they could become a closer family.

_Please Hera, help my family._

He could of sworn he heard the sharp sound of laughter in his ears.


	8. Athens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena awaited him and, like many mortals who heard from the gods, he was at her beck and call. Whatever could she want with me, he thought. His face was pinched in contemplation until a familiar hand landed on his shoulder and interrupted his thoughts. He turned from his perch by the side of the ship and faced James, who looked less green than when he had first stepped on the boat.

_**Present Day** _

Theodore tasted the salty tang of the Ionian sea on his tongue. A swooping breeze, coming in from the east, fluttered over his shoulder. Behind him, he could hear his captain speaking as the man steered them to the city of Athens which loomed ahead of them. Theodore swallowed hard in anticipation. Each time he visited the city was more grand than the last. He grabbed his bottle opener from his pocket and held it up to the light, admiring the decorative sides.

Athena awaited him and, like many mortals who heard from the gods, he was at her beck and call.  _Whatever could she want with me_ , he thought.  His face was pinched in contemplation until a familiar hand landed on his shoulder and interrupted his thoughts. He turned from his perch by the side of the ship and faced James, who looked less green than when he had first stepped on the boat.

"Have you finally found your sea legs mate," he quipped with a sly smirk.

"Very humorous. I just came over to see how you were doing," James replied seriously.

Theodore pocketed his opener and shrugged.

"I'm as fine as I could be. Why?"

"No reason. It's just that normal, rational men would not throw caution to the wind and suddenly head to Athens," said James as he shook his head.

"You didn't have to come with me," Theodore reminded him. The man had practically forced himself onto the plane before it took off. "I was fine by myself."

"And have you not talk to me for a few years? Hell no!"

Theodore grinned sheepishly at him. James was right, no matter how much Theodore wanted him to be wrong. His research always sent him into a trance where he ignored the people around him. This was the main reason why he was single. No one understood his dedication. He sighed.

"Well you're in luck. We're close to our destination. Athens is just over there in the distance," he replied.

"It's about time!"

 

Athens. The city described by John Milton as the"Eye of Greece, mother of arts and eloquence." It was a grand city and, much like London, seamlessly mixed the old architecture with the new creating a time travel quality with each street and block. The sun fell over the horizon and a dim moonlight arose and covered the city. City lights encompassed the land as if they were little stars in an earthen vault of heaven.

"I'm starting to see why you were so obsessed with coming here," said James as he sat on his luggage and attempted to get his land legs back.

"It's not even close."

And it wasn’t. If James knew that he was only here to talk to a Greek god, he would be dragging him back on a plane to London and shoving him into an asylum for the rest of his days.

“In any case,” he continued, "we need to get on the bus to our hotel. We don’t want to be late checking in.”

Their yellow and blue trolley bus came around, and they hopped inside sitting in the front seats. Theodore laughed in amusement at the rapture on James’s face as he stared at the scenery. It was cute and reminded him of when he had first come to Athens. The bus dropped them off at their hotel, and they checked in and headed to their room. There was only one bed.

“Shouldn’t there be two,” asked James.

“Well I sort of figured I would be alone on this trip, so I only booked for one. Then someone decided to volunteer themselves along.”

A faint blush arose on James’s cheeks, and he looked away in an attempt to hide it. Theodore sighed deeply and sat upon the faux fur golden brown bed.

“Look, why did you really come with me to Athens?”

James settled beside him and, a tad hesitant, placed his hand on Theo’s. A shock went through both of them.

“I miss what we used to have. When you disappeared-”

“I didn’t disappear,” Theodore injected.

“You basically did. You never talked to me or anybody else.”

Chastened, Theodore kept his mouth shut. James continued.

“When you disappeared, I was lonely. You were my world then you were off to Greece without a word to me. Your obsession with this country-”

“It’s not an obsession,” Theodore couldn’t help but interrupt. “This is my life, my job-”

“It’s an obsession when you forget about the people around you! Face it Theo, you haven’t truly been yourself since your father died.”

“That’s a damn lie!” Theodore hissed.

“The hell it is! When he died a part of you died with him, and then you tried to fill it with this Greek business.”

Theodore stood up, glaring fiercely at James.

“I don’t have to listen to this shit,” he said coldly.

He stomped to the door and placed his hand on the silver door handle.

“Theodore….”

The archaeologist stiffened and gripped the handle tighter. he hadn’t heard James’s voice be that soft in a long time. And who’s fault is that? A pair of arms wrapped around him, and Theodore found himself easing into their comfortable embrace.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” came James’s muffled voice from his back.

Wordlessly, Theo shook his head and turned to face James whose gray eyes gazed into his brown ones. Was he angry because he mentioned his father or, is it because he speaks the truth? How did he know that his vision of Athena wasn’t a figment of his imagination?

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he found himself saying. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been selfish. I just- I just want you to bear with me a little while longer.”

James didn’t reply. Gently, he caressed Theodore’s face with an unreadable expression. He was not a conventionally handsome man, and neither was Theodore in any scope of the imagination, but, in that moment, he was more attractive than anyone he had ever met. Their lips collided with one another hungrily after years of yearning and lonely nights.

“The bed. Now,” Theodore growled.

They fell onto the sheets with Theodore on top impatiently removing each piece of obstructive clothing. James moaned deep in his throat and entrapped Theodore’s waist within his thighs. He had missed this. He had missed him. James.

He slid inside and held back from ejaculating at that very instant. It had been far, far too long since he had last done this. They met each other thrust for thrust in an erratic rhythm. All thoughts of Athena were forgotten.

 

_Abaddon…_

Theodore awoke suddenly in a vast chasm of darkness. Where am I? Alarmed, he scrambled up, and his eyes gazed about the barren, midnight landscape. What the hell was this place?

_Abaddon…_

That voice. Somehow, he remembered that voice. He had heard it somewhere before. In a distant time.

_Abaddon my love…_

Footsteps. There were footsteps echoing within the shadows. A distant figure was walking towards him. A familiar silhouette. James, he thought.

_Abaddon you have finally come to me…_

The figure drew closer and Theodore gasped.

“J-James!” he exclaimed.

He was so sure that it was his friend. The figure had all the blond man’s features. It was almost uncanny. The figure halted in front of him and smiled, almost condescendingly. Theodore braced himself.

“Be calm my love,” Theodore couldn’t believe the silky, somewhat seductive, tone of the figure’s voice. It was nothing like James’s soothing baritone. Who is this man?

The face of James began to morph and change. The cropped blonde hair grew long and onyx. The hookish nose became more straight and upturned. The grey eyes turned black. Something stirred within him.

“Hades.” There was no questions to who it was. “Hades.”

The smile was genuine as the two, god and man, gazed at one another. The silence was deafening. Theodore didn’t know what to say. Luckily for him, Hades did.

“I have waited many years for this moment,” the god said.

“Why?” Theodore was confused. “I am no one special.”

“Your name is Abaddon.”  _The name of the boy in the story I found!_ “I’ve known you for several millennia. When you died I kept your soul with me. You were by my side always but you-” Hades stopped himself as his face screwed up in pain. “You did not remember me. You did not remember anything. A thin wisp of a soul, an empty shell was all that was left of you.”

Theodore’s mouth went dry. He vaguely remembered this. The pain. The darkness. The unbridled sadness in Hades’s eyes.

“Eventually,” Hades continued, “I couldn’t take anymore. Against the very laws of the dead, I put your soul into a new vessel and watched as you grew up once more. I broke my own rules and came into the human world with an alias and a new face.”

“James,” Theodore whispered. The pieces were all falling into place. James’s obsession with him since they had met in college; it all made sense.

“Yes, I was the one who gave your father the opener, me and Athena. Your father was an Abrahamic man. He yearned for a child that his wife could not give him.”

“So you-”

“So I impregnated her and gave the child your soul. Don’t look so surprised,” Theodore forcefully shut his mouth. “Zeus is not the only god who can fuck mortals.”

Theodore had nothing to say to that.

“Once I had told him what I had done, he was angry, rightfully so, however, nothing could deter me from my true purpose.” He stared fiercely at Theodore. “The deed had been done and he was given his dream child so he had no choice but to do as I requested.”

“The opener in the will. It was all you,” said Theodore. This was all becoming a bit much.

“Yes, that was our deal. It was the catalyst that allowed you see into the spirit world. I had infused it with a bit of my power.”

“I couldn’t see you without it?”

“No. Mankind has turned its face to us, the Olympians and have went into the arms of the Abrahamic religions.” Theodore winced at the mocking and bitterness in Hades’s voice. “No matter how far you dedicated your life to our mythology, you still could not see us because to you, we were a myth. A leftover delusion from a bygone era.”

“S-so what you’re saying is that meeting with Athena-”

“Is real.”

“I knew it!”

A childish thrill of glee went through him. Hades watched him bemused.

“But wait,” one question still remained, “how were you able to gain the services of Athena?”

Hades looked away, his face cloudy.

“She will tell you the rest. The daylight comes.”

“Hades…,” Theodore didn’t want him to leave. Now that he knew what he knew now, he wanted to stay with the god. Athena be damned.

“Theodore we must depart from this place. She might be listening,” Hades hissed.

“Who?” Then he paused and thought about it. “Hera.”

“But, we are in the Underworld-”

“That means nothing! Her influence now extends past Olympus.”

“Because of me.”

“Because of your reincarnation. Zeus was not pleased with my actions. Then again, he is almost never pleased with my actions.”

“So….everything’s my fault..”

“No, nothing is your fault.” Hades was beginning to shimmer before his very eyes.  _No!_  “It is the sins of your family being passed on to you.”

“Hades!”

“Do not worry.” He was fading fast, becoming a ghost-like presence. “I shall be with you in the human world. I am always beside you.”

“ **Hades!** ”

Theodore fell off of the bed and banged his head on the dresser beside him.

“Shit!”

He rubbed his throbbing cranium and eased up from the floor to meet the eyes of James.  _No, Hades._

“Are you alright mate?”

“How long,” Theodore was shocked that he kept his voice steady, “are you going to play this role Hades?”

Hades smiled apologetically.

“Please forgive me. It has become a habit. Too many years spent in England. Why ever did I allow you to be born in the dreadful country? I never experienced so much rain in all my years. I should have let you be born in America.”

Theodore shook his head with a small grin of his own and glanced at the flashing red alarm clock then back to Hades.

“Let’s get dressed. We have to get to the Parthenon.”

 

Theodore wished he had not underestimated the popularity of the Parthenon. Hundreds of people, many of them American tourists, were gathered about the tattered structure. He had to hold on to Hades’s, who was back to his original appearance, hand in order to not lose him. He tried to ignore the rising of his heartbeat when the god was so close to him. Now that he had had time to think, he was a tad miffed at the god, no matter his intentions. He had been lied to his entire life. He didn’t know if the emotions he felt for the god were from the past life or leftover from his stint with James. Who was actually Hades. So, there’s that.

It made his head throb.

“How ever will we be able to see her with all these people about?” Theodore had the unsettling feeling that they were at the wrong Parthenon.  _Maybe I should have went to America instead._

“Do calm yourself, she will not come to us in her god form.” That had occurred to him but, she had first appeared to him in such a overly dramatic way that he expected her to. “She will be in her human form, much like I am. Surely you remember such things from your research Professor Lowsley,” Hades added sarcastically.

Theodore gritted his teeth and kept himself from strangling Hades. When the god had been James, he hadn’t had to deal with this much sarcasm. He figured that the god had been holding himself back. How ever did Abaddon- they were far too different for Theodore to think of them as the same person- fall in love with him?

“Do you like what you see?”

He had been caught staring. He quickly looked away.  _Dammit!_ He ignored the Greek god beside him, who was smirking in such a seductive way that Theodore wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet, and peered about for Athena. How would she appear?

Many times in mythology, the gods would take unconventional forms when trying to communicate with humans. Zeus and his many animal forms came to mind. So, maybe an animal? He spent several minutes trailing the various pets people brought along with them to the historical site. Ultimately, he began to feel foolish. What the hell was he doing?

Had he really anticipated a talking animal? He had the vague notion that he was slowly losing it.

“Hades, I think your lover boy might have a cat obsession.”

Athena? The voice came  from a spunky brunette who stood several  inches shorter than Theodore at 5’3. Theodore saw that she was pretty with a full mouth, green doe eyes, and a hair that was pulled up into a messy bun. They had finally found her and not a moment too soon.

“It upsets me. I always knew he was having an affair. I just hadn’t thought that it would be with Bastet.”

“Who knew you’d be into furries Uncle.” Theodore didn’t even want to know how she knew about those. He barely knew about them himself.

“Maybe he would come back to me if I was dressed as a sex kitten.”

 _Oh god. No, gods._ Theodore rolled his eyes to the heavens.

 

“The other Olympians would not approve of us meeting.”

Athena, after their brief introduction, had led them to a place where they could leisurely talk. She took them to the James Joyce Pub, just a few miles from the Parthenon. It was an attempt to make Theodore “feel more at home”. He didn’t really feel that homey.

“Then why did they not strike us down when they had the chance,” Theodore asked as he drank his Smirnoff vodka. It wasn’t very smart so early in the morning, but, after everything that had happened in the past twelve hours, he needed a drink.

Athena and Hades smiled at his mischievously. He felt like the butt of a huge joke.  

“I only said they didn’t like it. I never said they could stop us.”

That elicited a chuckle out of Hades who was consuming a sea bass, and Athena one of their salads. They were sitting on a red tinted couch beside a bookshelf. The pub was mildly populated with many of the people being clumped up in the front tables by the door. They were fortunately left alone besides the occasional comment from their waiter.

“I missed you niece,” Hades commented. “Why have we spent so long away from one another?”

“Because you were far too enraptured with chasing after young men.” She gazed pointedly at Theodore. “I swear Hades, you have become almost as bad as Apollo.”

Theodore drank to hold in his laughter. Hades, sulking, stabbed at his fish.

“I like her,” Theodore said cheekily.

Hades stayed quiet, obviously pouting. Athena rolled her eyes at him.

“I swear you have become the frivolous Olympian you have always hated the longer you stay in this realm.”

“That’s a lie-!”

“Anyway,” she ignored him and transferred her attention to Theodore, "how much do you want to know?”

Theodore didn’t even have to think about it.

“Everything.”

“Then we have plenty of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The places I mentioned are actually in Athens. The hotel that Theodore and "James" go to is called the Hotel Cosmos Athens: http://www.hotelcosmos.com.gr/hotel/
> 
> The James Joyce Irish Pub is also in Athens, much to my surprise and named after the author of Ulysses as well, and is not that far from the Parthenon: http://www.jjoyceirishpubathens.com/
> 
> It is much more light hearted than the other chapters which is strange since there's as much heavy stuff in it as the other chapters. Or more since Theodore finds out about himself and his past.


	9. All We Leave Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was he doing? He knew it was futile to even dream. He was second son. The best lot he could have in life was to stay a member of the crew. With Simonides involved, he could only hope to lick his boots. He cursed under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links I used:
> 
> http://www.thehistoryblog.com/archives/1473
> 
> http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/584463/tavern
> 
> http://www.assemblage.group.shef.ac.uk/issue6/Kelly_web.htm
> 
>  
> 
> http://monsaventinus.wikia.com/wiki/Ancient_Greek_Female_Names_(Greek_Community)
> 
>  
> 
> This was one of those difficult chapters where I struggled with the beginning. This is one of my prouder chapters,even though I had originally planned to make these chapters shorter. This chapter alone is 4,000 words. Which was a lot more than what I was going to type.

"The sea is a cruel mistress lads."

Vangelis looked over the expense of the Mediterranean Sea with his eyes cloudy. The deeply blue waters moved, almost in sync, with one another, as though performing a complex dance. He knew his father talked of the raging storms, but he had seen more cruelty from humans than from the sea. This was another one of his father's long winded lessons all aimed towards Simonides, Ikaros, and himself.

Only one other person of his father's original crew were present. Solon had kept many of them home in order to, as he put it "Test my sons and Ikaros. See how they do when we aren't doing most of the heavy lifting." Theodoulos was one of his most trusted men, and a strong addiction for the bottle, his one fault. His hair was as dark as Solon's and was erratically chopped at the ends. He was long in the face and of a mopey appearance with cheeks of a hollow quality. The man looked partially starved. Despite this, as shown by his bulging muscles, he was anything but.

"Poseidon and Tethys have blessed us for many years," Solon continued on. He sat with the rest of them,at the helm of two oars and rowing effortlessly. It had taken Vangelis quite some time to build endurance and gain a more muscular physic and losing his more lithe form,"and Tethys has survived all that has been put in her way. The trade at Voies should be an easy one."

Tethys, named after the Mistress of the Sea, was a crescent shaped vessel with one white sail between two wooden benches in the middle of the ship. It was a caramel colored boat and was once owned by Solon's father Leonidas. He had passed it on to his first son, and Solon was going to pass it on to Simonides. It should be me, Vangelis thought whilst gritting his teeth. He hated being so bitter for it was what his brother expected of him.

Simonides sat in front of him, purposely he was sure, and was appearing more and more like a clone of his father everyday, with half the sense and charisma. He was always barking orders, even when they were nonsensical and the men more knowledgeable than he. Why Solon allowed such a thing, he did not know. Vangelis knew it should be him to acquire the birthright. He loosened the grip on the oars once he realized how tightly he had grasped the handles in anger.

What was he doing? He knew it was futile to even dream. He was second son. The best lot he could have in life was to stay a member of the crew. With Simonides involved, he could only hope to lick his boots. He cursed under his breath.

Many a times, Hades would lament about his fate as the God of the Underworld. Vangelis now knew his plight, although, he couldn't imagine him in any other role.  _Hades, God of the Seas_ , he thought humorously.

"What's so funny?" Ikaros whispered into his ear.

Vangelis shook his head and tilted back some.

"Tis nothing old friend. I'm merely getting lost in my thoughts the more we row," he commented.

"Do not worry. We shall reach the town by nightfall as the least," he began,"then we would have missed the storms."

"I know. I just-"

"After all that training, your arms still tire," Ikaros chuckled to himself. "Or maybe you are merely missing your secret lover at home."

Vangelis, who had not told Ikaros of his relationship with Hades, flushed a pretty lightly tinted pink. Though much more masculine than he used to be as a young boy, he still had a face of fine femininity.  

"Or maybe he is just second rate," Simonides whispered harshly. Vangelis had almost forgotten he was there. "He is a bastard after all."

"I am not a bastard! I am just as much Solon's son as you are," he whispered back just as harsh.

"Or are you?"

Vangelis wanted to wipe that smug look right off of his face. Ikaros, luckily, calmed him down. Solon watched all of this with his side eye, his lips pinched together.

They reached the port by nightfall as prophesied and they docked, burying their ship under a woolen tarp for the morning's market.

"Follow me," Solon commanded. "I know of a man, great friend of mine, who will open his home to us."

"Father is that wise?"

He narrowed his eyes at Simonides, glaring heatedly. Even Vangelis felt the hotness of his gaze.

"If you want to sleep back on the boat so be it," he said stiffly.

"No father I just wanted to make a slight suggestion-"

"To the Underworld with your suggestions!"

Simonides paled considerably.

"I just think-"

"Well I think that you've usurped my authority for the last time."

"But father," Simonides protested,"I am to inherit this business!"

"Not while I am alive. You will  obey me like every other sailor in my crew."

Simonides, chastened, kept quiet the rest of the walk. Vangelis was shocked by the argument and he and Ikaros shared a look. He couldn't deny that the display amused him, however, he couldn't shake the feeling that the argument was about him in some way.

Voies was everything their small village of Canea was not; large and imposing with throngs of people mingling about the roads. The houses were side by side, cramped together as though they were meat packed in a jar. Up ahead in the crowd was a man, waving, albeit in a flamboyant way.

"Andonis..." Solon muttered to himself.

Andonis was a man of modest stature and protruding belly. His was a hair of brown and a beard cleverly trimmed. Vangelis was in awe of him.

"Welcome old friend back to Voies. I got your letter and came as quickly as I could to meet you."

Solon and him embraced each other warmly.

"Let me look at you," Andonis took some steps back and his eyes roamed his friend's face. "You are growing old Mighty Solon. Is that some gray I see?"

Solon chuckled heartily and nodded.

"Ahh and these must be your sons."

He strolled towards them and inspected them as he had Solon.

"You must Simonides," Simonides puffed out his chest proudly. "An image of your father if I've ever sen one."

As he approached him Vangelis suddenly ducked his eyes, far too shy to look at the man.

"And you must be Vangelis. Told to be as golden as a god from Olympus."

There was an odd quality to the way he stared at him. Vangelis lifted his head and was struck by the glint in the man's eyes. As if he held the key to an unsolvable mystery.

"And this young man is-"

"Ikaros," the dark headed man answered. "I am a friend of Vangelis."

"Well, welcome to my home and I hope you will enjoy yourself."

"Where is your wife Andonis?" Solon asked as he and the rest of the crew was ushered on into the home, a moderately large house of white stone and wooden roof.

"Where is she? Why with her friends of course! Although between you and me," he leaned into Solon's ear, "she was not looking forward to seeing you again after Theodoulos's last visit. The man almost milked us dry of any and all wine we had to offer."

"I hope it was not any trouble."

"Trouble? Well if you ask me she was secretly glad he did it. If not him I sure would have if given the chance. Dionysus has been blessing me since the days that you left for Pellana."

A dark cloud fell over Solon's face, but he still forced himself to answer," Is that why you are fat now old friend?"

"It is part drink and part cooking. Not my wife's poisonous fare but the neighbor's wife's. I should have married her instead."

"Aglaia's beauty blinded you."

"Does beauty not blind all men? Even the gods themselves grow weak at the sight of a beautiful face and voluptuous body. Is that not why Hades kidnapped Persephone?"

Vangelis halted in his steps towards the kitchen, a small room of walls decorated red and white. When was the last time Hades had mentioned his wife? He could not remember any instances. He wondered what their relationship was now and what she thought of him.  _Nothing good I bet._

Theodoulos was the first in the sitting room, nursing his drink while staring towards the ceiling.

"And so we begin the age old ritual. Do any of you want anything to drink?" asked their host with a heavy sigh.

Sheepishly, the boys nodded their heads as Solon shook his.

"I shall pass. I need to stay level headed for the morrow."

"I-I pass as well," came the conflicting answer of Simonides. Vangelis, to his utter annoyance, had to retract his answer as well.

"More drink for me then," Ikaros said shrugging with a smile.

"As you wish," Andonis retreated to the kitchen and Solon turned towards Simonides.

"Come, we need to set up shop."

Vangelis started to follow only to be stopped by a lift of Solon's hand.

"Not you Vangelis. You stay here with Ikaros. Get some sleep. You will need you strength for in the morning." he said all of this with an apologetic smile.

Simonides's smile was anything but apologetic. _It isn't fair_ , he thought as they left for town.  _Am I not also your son? Am I not worthy enough to help you?_  Ikaros placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Do not worry about it Vangelis. It is not a slight towards you."

He shrugged off the hand fiercely.

"Then why does it feel like it?"

He shoved past him, swallowing bitterness, and headed to his room for the night, ignoring Ikaros' calls at his back.

_Far off into the distance, was a swan of pure white feathers that fell onto the ground like snow and shimmered like stars. It swam in a pool that reflected the sky above. Vangelis grew closer to the creature, mesmerized by its beauty. What was he doing here? He did not know._

__ _The swan seemed to beckon him to its side and he came. The swan tilted his head down in greeting._

__ _"Vangelis."_

__ _That voice, that voice. A sadness fell over him like a veil. Never had he heard such sorrow. Tears began to form at the corners of his eyes._

__ _"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

__ _He did not know why he was apologising. All he knew was that, his spirit knew this creature. The swan spread its wings and flee to him, and with her wing, dried his tears. He looked back at it then, and its icy blue eyes stared back at him. So cold and yet, for him, so warm._

__ _"My son come back to me."_

__ _"Mother?"_

__ _"You have been away for too long. I cannot wait any longer to have you in my arms again as when you were an infant."_

__ _"Why," Vangelis whispered," why did you abandon me mother?"_

__ _"Abaddon," he drew away as if struck," I had no choice. My husband-"_

__ _"Why do you call me that? Abaddon?"_

__ _Silence._

__ _"Mother-"_

__ _"Because I was foolish," now its voice trembled. "In my grief I gave you a forsaken name. Solon has named you better than I."_

__ _"Why do you come to me now?"_

__ _A sudden strong wind whipped over the land and the trees moved with it, their leaves swirling about._

__ _"To warn you."_

__ _It grew dark then. Shadows crept over the land. The swans feathers began turning a bright scarlet, then, a dark red. The color of blood._

__ _"Come to me quickly Vangelis! Before she gets her hands on you!"_

__ _The wind grew stronger than before. Vangelis held on tightly to the tree behind him which was breaking at the seams. In his other hand, he held his mother's wing._

__ _"Who?"_

__ _"She-"_

__ _The wind blew , toppling him over. He lost his grip of his mother and watched helplessly as she went up into the air, calling his name._

__ _"Mother!"_

__ _"Vangelis!"_

__ _"Vangelis!"_

_"Vang_ elis."

"Poor Vangelis."

Vangelis awoke in his guest room, sweating profusely. Theodoulos stood above him swigging his wine. The man looked anything but sober.

"Theodoulos," he began annoyed," what are you doing?"

"Solon came to me when he first found ya," the man was slurring. "Never seen the man so panicked in his life. Said he had picked up the kid of Helen and had no idea what to do."

Helen. Everyone knew of Helen. The woman who foolishly started a war between the Greeks and Trojans that lost thousands of lives. She...she couldn't be his mother. She had no children other than her daughter Hermione. His mother was Elpis.

"You are lying," he said as calmly as he could. "Elpis is my mother-"

"H've y' ever wondered why you don't look like yer parents?"

"I look like an uncle on my mother's side."

"Hogwash," the man was oddly serious suddenly. There was a glass like quality to his eyes. "This uncle of theirs does not exist. You were never Solon's son, but a welp of Helen."

The smile Theodoulos sent him did not belong on that usually good natured face. It was cruel and enjoyed seeing Vangelis suffer. He took another swig of his wine.

"Get out," Vangelis hated the way his voice shook, hated his weakness. "Get out!"

"As yer wish, Prince of Troy."

The blond's words were trapped in his throat as Theodoulos left his room, taking with him Vangelis's innocence.  _You were never Solon's son. He is a bastard after all._

His father had lied to him, his family had lied to him. The only one who had had the mettle to telling him the truth about himself had been Simonides. No wonder he hated him.  Newcomer coming in and taking what should be rightfully his.

The thoughts that he had earlier that morning now felt childish, wishful thinking. He didn't belong here, he wasn't apart of this family. He was never a part of this family.

Vangelis clutched his chest. Suffocating, these walls around him were suffocating. He had to get out. He had to talk to Hades.

He got up from his bed chambers with a steely resolve and crept as quietly as he could outside. In the greeting room, he saw Theodoulos and Ikaros asleep on the floor in a drunken slumber. Pain like he had never known brought tears to his eyes that he furiously wiped away.

Ikaros was his friend, his companion. To think that he would have to leave him behind was just too much for him to bear. He went off into the night and searched for a private place, something not unlike his grove back home on Canea.

Not many people walked around this time of night. The streets were sparse of anyone of importance besides drunkards finding a way home.

A place, made of sparse white stone that surrounded the outskirts of the town was where he settled. The deep blue waters shuffled up on the rocks then cascaded back down into the sea, as if too skittish to meet the land. He called out to his god and watched as he appeared instantly infront of him.

Vangelis could see the mild annoyance in Hades's features but was too distraught to address it.

"Hades my love, please say my name." Vangelis pleaded.

It was such an odd request. He had not asked such a thing since he was a boy.

"Vangelis." Hades said and Vangelis looked as though he had eaten something sour.

"My true name." he replied steely.

"You are Vangelis-"

"Stop lying! I'm tired of the lies," Vangelis growled. "Do you think me deaf? I heard you whispering a name as I slept once all those years ago. Is the name mine or does it belong to another boy who strikes your fancy?"

Vangelis had never thought of Hades as being old, despite him being a god. His outer appearance was that of a man only a few years older than he. At this moment in time, he seemed every bit as old as he was.

"Your true name is Abaddon, given to you by your mother."

"Who is my mother?" Vangelis asked quietly.

"I think you already know."

He flashed back to his conversation with the drunken Theodoulos and his nightmare and bit back a sob.

"My mother is Helen."

A slight breeze, like that in his dream, settled over the harbor. Hades did not say anything to confirm or deny this, but his eyes said it all.

"After our market day I'm going to go look for her. I shall go to the palace of Menelaus." Vangelis said with more bravado than he felt.

"If that is what you wish," Hades heard Hera cackling in his ears. He knew she had won this, but he would perish before he would allow her to harm his lover," then I shall be there by your side. Just call me when you leave and I will be there."

Vangelis embraced him and met his lips in a passionate kiss. Hades laid him down on the rocks and removed his garmets. I need this. I need him. Hades prepared and entered him slowly. Vangelis took in a breath as his body melded with his.

The next day at the market place, Vangelis kept to himself, only speaking when spoken to. Solon and Ikaros, though suffering from a headache from the night before, watched him with concern. Simonides thought his silence was a welcome change. Theodoulos was his usual self and offered advise to the young sailors.

Vangelis couldn't believe it. After all that had happened last night, the man did not remember while Vangelis was cursed to remember all the rest of his days.

They set up their stall and was able to sell many of their wares with Simonides proving to be a successful business man. Vangelis didn't even have the strength to be mad as he would have used to. This was not his family and this, was not his business. It hurt more than he thought it would.

Ikaros greeted every customer with that easy grin of his that had always seemed to gain him notoriety with the girls in his village. Out of his side eye, he wanted Vangelis with mounting concern. He had never seen his friend so distraught, so defeated.

He figured it had something to do with their argument the previous night. He had known things were strained with him and his father, although it had gotten better in sequential years, but never this bad. And there was Simonides lapping up all the glory as he knew how. Ikaros curled his lip in disgust.

"Good job lads," Solon said softly to them," you were able to be successful traders. I've never been so proud."

Ikaros puffed out his chest. He remembered the nights he had fought with his father over his choice to be a trader and join his friend. This moment of pride, made it all worth it.

"Ikaros, you and Vangelis turn in early. Simonides, Theodoulos and I will pack up."

Ikaros turned his grin to Vangelis's direction but found his friend already moving in the direction of Andonis's home.

"Look after him Ikaros." Solon said with much woe. "He has not been himself since we landed."

That elicited a scoff from Simonides.

"I say let him mope. Why should we suffer for his melancholy?"

Solon whipped around and began scolding him. Ikaros went to follow Vangelis. He doubted any amount of rebukes would change Simonides by this point.

He found Vangelis in his room, shoving his things into a sack.

"So, what are you doing?"

He saw his friend's shoulder blades freeze and he turned to face him, his face more guilty than he had ever seen.

"I'm leaving Ikaros. To find my mother."

 _He must be insane_. Ikaros's heart went out to his friend.

"Your mother is Elpis and she's back on Crete. What's this really about?"

Vangelis shook his head. Ikaros could see tracks where tears had run down his face. His friend had always been a cry baby and he had always been there to drt his tears.

"Elpis isn't really my mother and Solon isn't really my father. Didn't you hear the rumors in the village?"

"Yes but," Ikaros argued," those were all just rumors!"

"No they weren't," Vangelis sat on his bedding and Ikaros joined him," Theodoulos came into my room last night and he...told me some things."

"Vangelis you know the man's a drunk. You can't possibly take what he says seriously."

His friend shook his head again and dread settled in his stomach.

"Theodoulos was anything but drunk last night when he told me my parentage and besides," Ikaros could see how hard he was keeping it together and wrapped a comforting arm around him," I look nothing like my parents. No one in my family looks like me. I've wondered why for a long time and now That I know...I gotta leave. I have to find my mother."

Ikaros knew that there was no way to get this foolish notion out of his friend's head. He was Solon's son....wasn't he? Even he had to admit he had his doubts. Vangelis's face was too soft, whilst his family's was hard and his hair too golden. It all, unluckily, made sense.

"I'll get my things."

Ikaros got up and headed towards the doorway.

"What are you-?"

"Do you honestly think I'm just going to allow you to go on your little adventure by yourself?"

Ikaros lifted an eyebrow and left. For the first time that day Vangelis smiled.

They gathered their things and was about to leave the house when a familiar voice called out to them.

"And where do you two think you're going?"

Vangelis cursed under his breath and there stood Andonis, hands on his large hips.

"Well," Ikaros began," we were just going to-"

"I'm going to find my mother." Vangelis said, interrupting him.

He had expected anger and instead got nothing but a twinkle of glee in the old man's eyes.

"Yes, yes quite right, but before you leave on your journey," Andonis left for several moments while Vangelis and Ikaros glanced at one another," have some food and this."

He handed Vangelis a scabbard of oak base and bronze ends. Inside was a silver sword, Spartan in design.

"You will need to protect yourself, out there in the wilderness. I'm sire Menelaus will not be keen on having a long lost son coming from nowhere."

Vangelis swallowed, grateful for the man's help.

"Thank you. I don't know how to repay you."

"Just find your mother lad. I knew keepin ‘you away from the truth was a big mistake. I will tell Solon where you have gone. If you go up the hill from where you docked there is a hill that leads to a pathway. Follow that to your destination."

Vangelis tied the sword to his side, nodding. Andonis waved them away on their journey until they were but a speck in the distance. His smile fell into a frown and his body began to mold itself. In his place stood Eris, her eyes flashing red. Her work here was done.

In a corner of the kitchen sat Andonis, knocked out cold. It had been easy to over power the old oaf. That drunkard had been even easier. Almost too easy. The Goddess of Chaos had wanted a real challenge.  _Oh well_ , she thought grinning,  _At least I get to watch the boy and his precious friend die._

On the path Vangelis halted suddenly and Ikaros ran into him.

"What are you-"

"I need to introduce you to someone."

"Who?"

Vangelis let out a name he never would have thought.

"Hades!"

And there was the God of the Underworld in all his dark glory.

"Vangelis, it seems that you have brought a friend."


	10. Dark Night, Dark Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could see himself with the crown, lording after his risen people. In his vision, the walls are rebuilt to higher stratospheres, reaching close to the heavens. Glory would be his and, with Hades by his side, he would seek retribution against the Greeks and the face of horror on Simonides face would be the sweeter than the sweetest wine.

A minuscule fire crackled upon pile of awkwardly placed sticks. Vangelis, Ikaros, and Hades, sat around it whilst attempting to warm themselves in the cool summer night.

"I still struggle with the fact that you have kept this relationship from me."

There was no humor upon Ikaros' face, only fatigue and weariness. They had walked for a long while, stopping only to rest or to take a drink at a spring when they became dehydrated. Needless to say, all three felt exhaustion down to their very bones. They had not talked much about the present issue and the conversation as they walked was merely small bits and pieces in an effort to conserve energy. Vangelis looked considerably guilty and wiped cooled sweat off his brow.

"Please forgive me my friend." he said quietly. "I did not know of a way to alert you."

Hades kept himself quiet while drinking a small cup of wine from Andonis's home. He figured he could leave this to the two friends. After all, it was not his fault.

"Did he make you keep it a secret," Ikaros pointed accusedly at Hades as his eyes narrowed.

"I did not," Hades told him, sounding remarkably bored. "Whether he told his friends or not was of his own volition not my own."

Ikaros stepped threateningly closer to him, baring his teeth.

"And exactly how long have your little meetings been going on?" he asked them as his anger mounted.

"Ikaros please-" Vangelis begged him.

"How long have you seen him?" He hissed.

"Since he was a young boy." Hades could not contain the smirk which grew on his face.  "He was mine before he was ever yours."

"You damn monster-!"

He swung a fist at the god only to be held back by Vangelis, who desperately tried to pry the two apart. The only one who seemed remotely amused by this was Hades who chuckled under his breath.

"You humans are violent creatures-"

"I'm going to kill you for touching him!"

"Oh my," Hades's smirk grew. "are you really? Oh, how I fear for my life."

"Listen here you-"

"Stop it both of you!"

Vangelis shoved Ikaros to the ground and glared at them both.

"Hades never touched me when I was young. I-we did not make love until some time ago," Vangelis flushed at the memory.

It had been a pleasant night, many months ago, and he remembered how Hades's hands felt on his body, sending him to completion, how their bodies meshed well together, and how tender the god was afterwards. He had never before felt so loved. They had done it plenty times since then, each time better than the last. Much to his own embarrassment, he found himself addicted to the deed and could not control himself when around the god. If Ikaros had not come along with them, he would not have kept his hands to himself. Hades looked far too tempting in his human form.

"Vangelis...?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned back towards Ikaros. He bent down and offered his hand.

"I'm sorry Ikaros. I did not know how to tell you."

Vangelis helped him up and he dusted himself off.

"Who else knows besides me?"

"Fath-Solon does." he replied with a wince.

Ikaros placed a pitying hand on his shoulder.

"Do not force yourself. He has been your father since you were an infant. It is only natural that you think of him as such."

"That is the thing Ikaros," Vangelis began,"what if I meet my real father and he-"

"Your father is dead, Vangelis," Hades interrupted, his face grim.

The two young men looked at him. Vangelis couldn't believe his ears.

"Dead? He...he can't be! If my mother is the Helen, then should my father not be Menelaus?"

Hades shook his head. Vangelis instantaneously hated the gesture.

"Then," he began his voice trembling," am I a bastard?"

"Worse. You are a son of Troy. A damnation as far as some gods are concerned."

Ikaros glared at Hades who held up his hands in a faux modest movement.

"I am not one of those gods I assure you. It was not I who placed lots on the war, I merely received the consequences of said lots in human souls."

Vangelis shook off Ikaros' comforting hand that had once again been placed on his shoulder. His voice was pleading, something which hurt Hades to hear. To see his beloved in pain was too much to bear.

"Who was he? A warrior?"

There was hope in his tone, hope that burned. Hades shook his head once more. This infuriated Ikaros who was not overtly fond of the God of the Underworld.

"Then who is he? Quit your games!"

"It is Deiphobus brother of Paris!"

Vangelis slid down to the floor his body a lot more heavy suddenly. Deiphobus.....brother of Paris was his father. He was the successor to the Trojan throne.

"I need time alone." he found himself saying to himself.

"Vangelis-!" Hades and Ikaros began.

"Alone!"

This silenced the two of them and he left the camping site into a another section of the forest that metamorphosed into a rocky, treeless, hillside whose greenery was a bright lime in the bright sun in the mornings and a brilliant emerald in the afternoon and nights. He settled himself onto a limestone and stared into nothing, thinking nothing.

The stories that the elders of his village spoke of Paris as the one who slighted the other goddesses and awarded the golden apple to Aphrodite. The elders spoke of Deiphobus as the one cut to pieces. Vangelis's head rested on his knees. He wished he could feel pride for his father, Deiphobus was known to the Greeks as anything but a coward, but all he could muster was indignation. It was his fault he was given his fate.

His fate to not know his mother, to be an outcast. Where could he go from here? His goal had been to find his mother...now he was not so sure. Maybe, just maybe, he was meant for greater things. 'Maybe it is my destiny to rebuild Troy.'

He could see himself with the crown, lording after his risen people. In his vision, the walls are rebuilt to higher stratospheres, reaching close to the heavens. Glory would be his and, with Hades by his side, he would seek retribution against the Greeks and the face of horror on Simonides face would be the sweeter than the sweetest wine.

'Then the true bastard would be him, crushed under my feet.' He shook his head, a lazy grin on his face. Such ideals could wait another time. He opted not to alert his friend Ikaros. He would be vehemently against the idea. 'Even though it is my birthright. I vow to bring Troy back to its former glory.'

He stood, brushing invisible dirt particles from his chiton. He headed back to the campsite, his mind and soul satisfied with his conclusions. A rustling sound came from his side and he paused in his steps, slowly turning. A voice, foreign to his ears, gruff came from within the emerald trees.

"Vangelis..."

Solon had once told Vangelis when he had been a young lad of Sirens who lured sailors with their seductive voices then sucked them down into the depths below. He had never heard of such a thing on land.

"Who are you?" he called out with more bravery than he felt.

"Do you not recognize the voice of your own father? Tis I, Deiphobus who speaks to you."

"You lie! Prove this to me!" Vangelis's voice cracked, much to his shame.

"Do you doubt your father?"

Could it be? Did he dare believe? Nay, the man had perished. Hades had said as much.

"You are no father of mine."

A hideous creature erupted from the trees onto Vangelis's unsuspecting form and nailed the blond to the ground. It roared a mighty roar seemingly to the heavens.   

It was a collage of the fiercest animals Vangelis had ever seen, its size was that of a large horse, with the body of a stag, the neck of a lion, hooves and a mouth filled with rows of razor teeth. He wrestled with the beast and, as if overcome by the strength of Herakles, pushed off the beast and withdrew his sword, standing in an awkward defensive pose.The Leucrocotae licked its chops, salivating from the sides of its mouth.

“She was right about you,” it began, it’s real voice as rough as sand,”you are a delectable thing to behold for the eyes.’

Vangelis struggled to swallow, his palms covered in sweat, as he gripped his sword tighter.  _If only I had paid more attention when father had taught me the way of the sword!_  The beast attacked once more and he swung his sword, in vain hope. It parried his blow easily and he watched helplessly as his sword flew into the overgrowth ahead.

“So beautiful, so  _weak_.”

That voice was unmistakable. He could hear Simonides laughing at him, even kilometers away. The heat of his anger overthrew his paralyzing fear and he recklessly threw himself towards the monster and hammered relentlessly at its flank. The beast roared in protest and its claws hooked themselves into Vangelis’s arm. Blood dripped onto the rocks below.

“Vangelis!.”

Hades and Ikaros came from the trees and gazed upon the scene with unbelieving eyes. Hades rushed at the beast himself and threw it against the trees eliciting a howl of pain. Ikaros ran to vangelis who held at his profusely bleeding arm.

“Are you alright Vangelis? Do you any other injuries?”

Vangelis wordlessly shook his head. The pain from his wound was slowly creeping upon him as his anger dissipated. Ikaros ripped his chiton and wrapped the cloth around Vangelis’s injured arm.

“Where is your sword? Why did you not use it?” Ikaros scolded.

“I tried to use it honestly, but my steel did not even leave a mark on the beast.”

“That is because swords do not work on these beasts.”

Hades walked back to them, his eyes darting back and forth towards them and the fallen beast that seemed to be unconscious, laying on an exposed root.

“They are a race known as the Leucrocotae and are immune to  the swords of average men.”

“I have never seen such a beast.” Ikaros said, leaning Vangelis against his form.

“That is because it is not of this land. It is of the land of Kush and has probably waited for us for sometime. .”

“Hera,” Vangelis whispered, dejection seeping into his voice.

“Yes Hera, this was all her doing. She led us here for the single purpose of your death, and maybe even Ikaros if he managed to get in her way.”

Vangelis’s eyes moistened. His fault, all because of his foolish pride, his friend, his lover were all in danger. Discreetly, the beast behind them awakened and stood on its hind legs, its eyes darkened with the lust for blood, whether god or human. Before the monster could land its devastating blow, a figure, small and lithe, but strong, appeared in front of it’s craws and shot an arrow of the most glorious gold into the Leucrocotae’s bowels out of its back.

The beast whimpered pathetically then stilled forever, its entrails spilling upon the ground before it dissipated into a cloud of black smoke, as if conjured by an illusionist. Vangelis recognized the figure immediately.

“Hermes!”

The figure turned and Hermes smiled at him in his normal mischievous way.

“Vangelis, it has been sometime. How long has it been? Ten years? A century?” he said with a grin.

“Blast it, how many gods do you know Vangelis?” Ikaros exclaimed in a joking manner.

Vangelis exhaled a small bout of laughter before his sight dimmed.

“Come we must get him back to our campsite!”

It was the last he heard before sliding into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we see Vangelis's gradual slid into his downfall. Some of this was hinted at in the previous chapters but I really wanted to take the time to visit it here. If you are not aware, the land of Kush is actually the ancient name of Ethiopia. I discovered the monster in my previous reserchings and thought it would be cool to use it here.
> 
> http://www.theoi.com/Thaumasios/Leukrokotai.html
> 
> http://www.taneter.org/ethiopia.html


	11. Some Tidings

 

Helen awoke from her dream gasping, her body veiled by sweat. Horrific images ran through her mind, like Marathon, of Paris, Troy, and Abaddon. She had not dreamed of them for many years now. Beside her, Menelaus stirred in his sleep then turned on his side away from her, removing his arm from around her waist. He had let himself go pudgy in later years since his 'rescue' of her from Troy.

Now he was half the man she once knew, if she ever knew him at all. Easing from the bed, too aware of her husband and fearful of his awakening, she slid into a modest chiton and let the skirt cascade onto her legs with her hands trembling. A scar, faint and white like snow, was on her face that was reflected in the washing water. She fingered it as she did each morning with bitterness and depression. She had not been fool enough to not prophesy his anger, but she had underestimated the heavy weight of his anger.

_Menelaus ran into the birthing room with his drunken soldiers in tow with his face a light with pleasure. Helen couldn't stand looking at him. She was sore from her recent endeavor, sore and tired. She struggled to sit up in her bed and met him with a stony gaze._

_"Where is he? Where is my son?"_

_Helen did not hesitate nor candy coat the truth._

_"Your son is dead. He was blue, not breathing as he came out of me."_

_His eyes met hers in confusion then she slowly saw the color drain from his face along with his joy. Then, in his eyes she saw the sadness replaced with the hot steaming anger she had seen on his face when he had slain Deiphobus. Anxiety and fear rumbled around in her stomach.  She struggled not to show it on his face._

_"You lie you wretch," his spittle fell upon her cheeks as he ran up closer to her. "Where is my son? Where is he?!"_

_His arm reached out and the back of his hand slammed on Helen's cheek and she spilled to the floor. His soldiers, in their inebriated states gasped. She shivered on the floor and cupped her injured cheek. A cut had formed and began to bleed in small drops fell down her cheek. She was too shocked to cry._

_His soldiers fumbled with their attempts to keep him from further violence and he shook them off effortlessly._

_"Find that midwife and bring her to me. They will not get away with this." He ordered._

_His soldiers bowed and hurried out the room, bumping into each other as they headed out. Menelaus looked back at her with disgust written clearly on his tanned features._

_"You will pay dearly for this. I swear it."_

_He left, following his soldiers, and was replaced by Hermione who began to clean up the extra blood that had begun to escape from between Helen's legs._

_"Mother is my little brother truly dead?" She asked, her voice laced with compassion._

_Only then did Helen began to cry. Her salty tears mixed with her blood._

_"Yes.....yes!"_

_Hermione reached over and held her. It did not take long for the soldiers to find the poor midwife and she was brought in, dragged on her knees and sobbing. The guards of the gate had said she had been holding something, a bundle of some sort. They had not thought to check what the bundle was._

_"Where is my son you witch?"_

_"Please," her chest heaved with her whimpers," do not kill me!"_

_"Where is he?!"_

_"In the river my king!" she cried out._

_In silence, he looked at his guards and made a cutting motion about his neck. She screamed once more for mercy before her head was swiftly chopped and plunged to the floor. Helen saw it all as she leaned up against Hermione. She felt the tears begin again. Two more deaths to add to the pile. Two more souls to perish due to her selfishness._

_The midwife's corpse was thrown into the river, as a sort of poetic justice in Menelaus's eyes. Helen was forced to watch and she kept her head up although, inside she wept of her fallen son and midwife._

She removed her hand from her scar as the memories faded and walked out of the bedroom. He had made her pay, he had made her pay dearly since then. She went to her weaving room and kneeled down upon the floor. Although, it not changed much since she had arrived back from Troy, she added one thing since the midwife’s and her son’s death. A shrine, dedicated to the goddesses Athena and Hera, stood at the food of the room with two figurines representing the goddesses and a bowl which held unburnt incense.

She lit it then and prayed to Athena for wisdom and Hera, for her son. All those years ago she had thought he had been dead but now, she feared he was now alive and plunging himself into danger.

“Please goddesses,” she pleaded, “help me and my son, if he still lives.”

The smoke from the incense altered from its alabaster color to a midnight black which grew until it rose to the roof of the room. Helen fell back and scooted away from her shrine in panic. What was this? _What was happening?_ The smoke began to contour and take shape in front of her very eyes. A large skull arose in front of her, smiling eerily back at her.

She did not have to guess much of what it meant. _Death._ Fearful, she ran from the room with a fist at her chest. Behind her she could hear laughing, a loud grating sound. She did not know who this was from Athena, or Hera.

                                                       ______________________________

**Present Day: Athens, Greece**

“….I did not help her that day as I should have.”

 Athena’s hair was now down from her bun and fell like a curtain about her shoulders. Theodore was speechless and eyed the bottom of his glass regretful that he would not get another.  Hades was quiet, thoughtful. Uncharacteristic of one so quick to quip.

“What does this have to do with Hades?” he asked after a period.

“Back then I was neutral to the conflict, I was already dealing with Odysseus and Poseidon at the time.” Her gaze met Theodore’s unflinchingly. “I now know that was a mistake. Is should have done something, anything to help you. Some years before you were born, Hades came to me,” she glanced back at the god then back at him,” for wisdom. It was about you. I had never seen him so desperate and I...I was the one who told him to reincarnate you.”

“Since then,” Hades cut in this time. “Hera has been monitoring our every move in the spirit realm. I put a barrier around us but, it will not last us long. I am too weak in my present form.”

“Th-then, what are we to do?” he asked, sliding his drink away.

Athena and Hades looked at each other, appearing to have a silence conversation. Theodore bit his tongue to resist commenting.

“We wait for her to strike. It is all we can do.”

“I’m sorry,” Theodore found himself saying before he could stop himself,” but just I can’t accept that.”

He slammed money on the table, muttering his apologies, and left the café. He heard Hades at his back, pleading and forced himself to keep walking. Athena was painfully silent. He needed some time to think, some time to plan.

                                                           ______________________________

“Hades you monster, you stole him from me!”

Hades bit back a laugh of derision.

“Stole? You cannot steal what never belonged to anyone,” his eyes darkened. “I hope you know that it is my name on his lip when we make love.”

Hermes inched forward to him only to have Ikaros come between them, glaring at them both. Never had he thought he would be standing in between two fighting gods.

“Please stop this! We must get Vangelis back to camp and tend to his wounds. You may have your tiff then.”

The gods nodded and Hades lifted the boy and he was carried back to the fire with extreme care. They nestled him with blankets and stopped the bleeding to the best of their ability, none of them were Apollo or Asclepius. All that was left to do was wait.

Hades looked down at Vangelis and tenderly brushed away a lock of hair. Hermes glanced at him with distaste.

“How long has this gone on? How long uncle?” he demanded.

Hades did not answer him. This only served to make Hermes more livid.

“I bet you have had your eyes on him all along. The son of the most beautiful woman in the world, who could not want him?” his laugh was strident.

“I did not start out this way Hermes,” Hades finally replied, acidic,” my intentions were completely pure. Besides, it was not I who abandoned the poor boy to his lonesome.”

“He obviously did not need me anymore. He had this one,” Hermes pointed to a befuddled Ikaros whose gaze traveled back and forth between the two arguing gods. What on earth had he gotten himself into?

“An excuse no doubt. You are naught but a coward!”

“You are not the only one who has been closely watching Hera!” Hermes quickly realized what he had said and clamped a hand to his mouth.

Hades raised an eyebrow and moved his hand in a ‘continue’ motion. Hermes sighed deeply.

“Zeus has been worried for his wife, a rare occurrence I assure you.”

“That does not surprise me. He is probably making another demi god as we speak. Continue.”

“She has not been on Olympus for a while and for the past several years has been leaving without word to anyone. I followed her one day and, much to my surprise, she went into your realm. I thought she was going to visit you, to put this whole thing behind her and then-“

“You saw her with Persephone.” Hades finished bitterly.

“Yes. I had wanted to see you sooner…see him sooner but, I thought it would be better if I kept my distance.”

Hades nodded jerkily and looked down once more at Vangelis who appeared to be stirring. He helped him up gently. Vangelis leaned against him, closing his eyes against his sudden dizziness.

“Be still; you still suffer from your wounds.” He scolded gently.

“The monster,” Vangelis began panting,” is it defeated?”

“Yes, it was completely slain.”

The blond nodded and attempted to stand up only to fall back against Hades.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?”

“We cannot stay here. Hera can strike at any time. I know this now.”

His eyes traveled about the camp in a panic.

“My sword, I left it. We must get it back!”

Ikaros, more frightened for his friend’s mental well-being than his physical, got up from his perch.

“I shall grab it. It is not far.”

A rustle came from the trees and the foursome flinched when a figure came rushing towards them, tall and impressive bearing an impressive sword. He came to Hades panting heavily; out of breath from his run. He allowed himself time before he could properly speak.

“Please forgive me. I allowed the monster to leave my sight-“

“Do not worry Ares. _He_ took care of things,” Hades gestured begrudgingly to Hermes who smiled, a tad wolfishly, at Ares.

“I did not know you were Hades’s lapdog. How interesting.”

Ares growled at him and pointed his sword towards his belly.

“I will gut you where you stand.”

“Just like you took Aphrodite where she lay?”

“You scoundrel-“

“Now, now children,” Hades interjected, growing bored with his nephews brawling,” do calm down. We mustn’t lose our heads.”

Ares glared at Hermes some more before removing his sword and sliding it back into his scabbard. Then, looked back at Hades then his gaze shifted to Vangelis who squirmed under his hot stare. Three gods, Vangelis could hardly believe it.

“Here,” he tossed something to Vangelis who caught it in midair. It was his sword. He began expelling words of gratitude only to be stopped midway.  “Do not thank me. Thank fate. If your swordsman skills had not been so flimsy, you would not have the wound that you do now.”

Vangelis reared back from the reprimand and gripped his sword tighter. Hades rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

“It was not his fault. The monster was impervious to steel.” Hades interjected.

“All the same,” Ares grunted,” he must learn how to properly hold a sword. Who knows when the next attack will be?”

“Are you willing to teach him oh mighty god of war?” Hermes told him smirking.

Ares growled at Hermes then looked back to Vangelis and Hades.

“If I must. I did make a promise on the River Styx to be of help to you Hades.” He said through gritted teeth.

“In other words, a lapdog.” The mischievous god couldn’t help but say. This began, once again, an argument.

                                                                __________________________

The home was quiet, a bit too quiet for Solon’s tastes. A dark chill washed over him.

“The young ones are more than likely asleep in their beds.” Simonides commented snidely.

Solon shushed him and eased his way into the house, a bad feeling overwhelming his senses. It was black inside, not a candle alight within the house. This did not feel right. He listening carefully into the darkness and someone’s muttering caressed his ears. It came from the direction of the kitchen.

Ignoring his sons inquires, he ran to the room and there in the corner was Andonis, tied up and gagged. _My worst fears have been realized._ Solon kneeled to his friend to undo his bonds and quickly asked what had happened.

“A beautiful woman was suddenly at my door,” the large man began, his voice solemn. “She was seducing, and I was weak to her wiles. She overwhelmed me at my weakest point and tied me up as I just was.”

Solon cursed and his fist slammed onto the floor. Simonides and Theodoulos came into the room and flinched. It was not often the man cursed, if ever.

“Who was she?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“A witch of some kind! She took my likeness and convinced Vangelis and his little friend to leave. She even gave him my family’s sword. It was a priceless heirloom.” He whined.

The old trader paced back and forth, his mind a whirl.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He only said that he was going to see his mother. Helen would have been proud at the amount of conflict the boy is causing.”

Solon silenced him with a look and turned towards his other companions.

“He and Ikaros and heading for Pellana and so shall we.”

“Wait, father,” Simonides protested,” what is even going on?”

“I will tell you later. Right now just grab your things.”

To the left of Simonides, Theodoulos had a guilty look on his face that disappeared as quickly as it came. But, not quick enough for Solon to miss it. The man had a lot to answer for. _Hades, please watch over my son._

                                                                _________________________

 

“After that little attack,” Hades was saying later on that night. A fire was prepared and crackling, the five of them sat around it and was talking, planning,” we got to get going. The city of Sparta is not that far from here. We can head there and quickly get supplies. We have to get to Sparta before anything else happens to Vangelis.”

“This entire journey is a trap,” Ares interjected and heads turned to face him. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Eris is stalking our every move and keeping Hera updated on our fumbles. Until we get to Pellana, Vangelis shall be under constant surveillance and we must be under constant vigilance.”

“Even in Pellana it is not guaranteed that the boy will be safe,” Hades sighed deeply.

“Do I not,” Vangelis found himself asking. He glowered at Ares,” have a choice in this? Do I not have a say in what happens?”

“Be silent!” Ares boomed and a strong force knocked Vangelis on his back onto the forest floor.

“Listen to yourself. Did you honestly ever think you have a choice? Remember who your mother is. Remember who your father was.”

“Ares-“

“No Hades, this has gone far enough.” The fire was now gone out from the sudden burst of power and wispy smoke waived up from the charred twigs. “No one has a choice. None of us around the fire have a choice. Not even Hera has a choice. It is how fate has ordained this to happen and happen it shall. Boy, you shall die, but we shall prevent it for as long as we can. Until then, you shall remain close to either I, Hades, or Hermes. Understood?”

Under the faint moonlight, Ares could just glimpse the look of hatred that was hard upon the boy’s face, twisting it into something repugnant. _Good. Hate me. Your hate will make you stronger._

“I understand.” Vangelis replied neutrally. Inside his mind, ideas had already began to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The next few chapters are when things really start to happen. This was merely a set up chapter so to speak. I really had tons of fun going back to Helen's point of view. What did everyone think of Ares? I'm glad he can finally have a role. He is a bit of a hard ass though, which is something Vangelis really needs.  
> Many of the scenes in this chapter were originally for the last chapter but, I thought the last one cut off at a good point to end it.  
> Hope you guys enjoy!


	12. That Which Eternally Wills Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore walked the afternoon streets of Athens alone. In the back of his mind he could feel Hades, probing at his mind violently with thoughts laced with concern.

**_Present Day: Athens, Greece_ **

Theodore walked the afternoon streets of Athens alone. In the back of his mind he could feel Hades, probing at his mind violently with thoughts laced with concern. _Where are you? Va-Theodore answer me!_ Vangelis. Vangelis. The archeologist felt his stomach clench tightly, so tight that he couldn't breath.

He might have been this...boy reincarnated, but he was not, and could never be him. Vangelis had been a gorgeous son of Helen, practically angelic in appearance. Whilst Theodore was the son of average everyman Arthur Lowsely and average handsome at best. When he had known Hades as James, there had been moments where he would give Theodore glances of disappointment, no disillusionment. Theodore thought it was all in his imagination, but now he knew better.

Hades always told him that it was him who pulled away, too absorbed in his work and translation. Theodore knew better. Hades-no James had pulled away from him first. Their passionate touches reduced to simple brushes in greeting. The lips that Theodore had once tasted ferociously only smiled at him in a cold way that made even the frigid reaches of the planet envious. Nightly and daily phone calls, were reduced to monthly, yearly, and if any at all.

Theodore was not Vangelis and Hades made him feel the sting of this rejection very clearly. In his pocket, he clenched his spray painted golden bottle opener with rage, sadness, and silence. Then, after some moments a sardonic grin arose on his face. A part of him was glad he was not entirely Vangelis. As infantile as it was, he would not wish the grey eyed Trojan Prince's fate on anyone. Up ahead, stood the prestigious National Archaeological Museum.

The white building was doused in sunlight, giving it a light orange complexion. In front, large Grecian columns, resembling that of Ancient Greece and several young people, resembling students, at on the steps of the museum. Maybe this was what he needed in order to clear his mind. He bounded up the stairs to the front door in a winded fashion. He was getting old and that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He paid his dues in the ticket booth and began to browse the collection of ancient wares. Somewhere in this museum sat some artifacts of his the he had proudly helped excavate. A vase, detailing the blinding of Polyphemous was locked in a glass case. Well preserved with minor chips in the paint, it was one of Theodore's favorite pieces he had discovered. He stepped closer, despite the bold warning upon the glass to stay away, for a closer examination of the artistry.

"Excuse me sir,"

Theodore stepped away in haste and turned towards the voice with an apology on his lips. Then, he stopped, his tongue suddenly swollen in his mouth. Surely, she was one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen. That was, until he was her eyes, orbs of a glacial blue. He had seen those eyes before, somewhere in another time.

She sauntered to him, wearing a dress that was the pattern of a country midnight sky. It fit her slim figure like a glove. She appeared to be glowing with a heavenly light, if he could even call it that. She carried with her an aura of danger, and Theodore was anything but a danger seeking man.

He began to move away from his spot only to stay rooted in place. His limbs were stiff, and rigid against his will. She was now close enough for a chaste kiss and grinned smugly. No one in the room seemed to see her, in fact they were acting as if she wasn't there at all. He opened his mouth to call for help.

"Do not bother Vangelis," her husky voice hissed and Theodore was chilled to his very core. "No one can hear or see us in this realm."

He was able to move his eyeballs around and scanned the room for any help. Everyone was stuck in action, like human dolls. Frozen in time. He could no longer feel or hear Hades. He mentally cursed.

"My poor, poor Vangelis," suddenly her voice was motherly, soothing, and a pleasant tingling sensation washed over Theodore's body. "Or is it Theodore?"

"My name is Theodore." He said, shocked by the sound of his own voice. He didn't think that he would be able to speak.

"I know what it is like to be called by another name than the one given. In one country I am Juno and in this country I am known as Hera."

Hera. She was Hera. He should have known, but it was too late. He was firmly in her clutches.

"But why come for me? I am not like the boy, I am not Trojan!" He pleaded, his mouth feeling like cotton balls.

"Your body now may be a regular mortals, but you still carry in you the soul of Troy," she stroked his chin and caressed his face, that motherly tone still in place,"and it is my duty to crush this spirit."

Her hands descended onto his throat the she clenched with a strength only known to the gods. He couldn't struggle, nor could he protest. So this is it for me. He thought he would feel peace in his time of death, sleeping next to his spouse of choice. He had not imagined he would go like this, and not without saying goodbye to Hades.

In his last moments, he smiled in ill humor at his own foolishness. He was going to the Underworld, where he was sure to say goodbye to Hades for an eternity to come.

"Goodbye Prince of Troy," Hera said venomous and with one final squeeze the life went out from Theodore.

She let him go and watched as he crumpled to the ground in a grotesque position. Her job here was done. She released the spell and enjoyed the various shouts of alarm from the humans around her. They ran to his corpse and administered CPR. One cried for an ambulance.

She laughed at their foolishness. Theodore was gone. _Vangelis was gone._

Hades stopped in his tracks and kneeled on the sidewalk, his heart aching as it had done that faithful night so long ago. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and spilled on his cheeks in an unabashed weep. Athena kneeled with him in alarm and worry. They had been following Theodore's signal and had lost him sometime at the National Archaeological Museum. In the background, sirens screamed and drove up to the museum.

"Uncle what is it? Why do you weep?" She asked him.

"Theodore," his voice was twisted in grief,"Theodore is dead."

"No....no...."

They looked on silently as a familiar body was wheeled into the ambulance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We're finally at the final stretch of the story. The next few chapters should tie up everything in a tight bow. I really struggled to write this chapter, seeing as Theodore is one of my favorite characters to write, but he will be back. I promise! I'm really hesitant to let this story go...
> 
> The title of this chapter is based off of a line in Faust. I thought it was appropriate.


	13. Recklessness and the Winning of Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vangelis's body ached with a throbbing pain that traveled from the curve of his back to the expanse of his toes. Ares's training regime was relentless, ruthless, and out right cruel if you were to ask him of his opinion. However, of course, nobody did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this chapter took longer than anticipated to write! I actually had started it last month immediately after the last chapter but school and a bit of writer's block intervened as usual. Honestly I think I might have sometime before the story is finished yet as I thought I did. I figured it would be about five before I was finished, but it seemes I might be done in ten or so.
> 
> This is where the title came from: (Zeus): 'Oh for shame, how the mortals put the blame on us gods, for they say evils come from us, but it is they, rather, who by their own recklessness win sorrow beyond what is given […].' (1.32-34)

"Attack me once more mortal!"

Vangelis's body ached with a throbbing pain that traveled from the curve of his back to the expanse of his toes. Ares's training regime was relentless, ruthless, and out right cruel if you were to ask him of his opinion. However, of course, nobody did. No one except Ikaros, who stood by the sidelines, his face awash with worry. Hades stood with him along with Hermes, his face an unreadable slab of poetry. 

Resentment, stronger than the hands of Herakles, was upon him and he rushed at Ares, whose smug face made his stomach churn with disgust. The god did not use his sword. Instead, he threw his to the side and, in a move far too swift for Vangelis's eyes to capture, caught his sword mid-swing and was able to wrench it away from him with a side step that sent the blond spiraling to the ground. Vangelis laid there, with his side aching, not fully healed from the monster's encounter, soaking in his own humiliation. He heard deep caustic laughter above him and his nails dug deep into the earth below him. 

"Do be gentle with him Ares," Hades called out, almost flippantly. "He has not the years of training that you have."

_But, I do have the years of training,_ Vangelis thought to himself, slapping away Ikaros's concerned hand. He just was not as skillful as his friend or...Simonides. His face grew redder than the firmest apple in an orchard. 

"Pah," Ares answered with derision," you are too gentle with the boy. He needs to learn and he needs to learn now. Hera will strike whilst we are the most vulnerable, nay when he is the most vulnerable, and he must be ready for whenever."

The sarcastic glint in Hades's eyes grew soft in a way Vangelis had never seen before. He almost felt....mortified to see it. As if, it was not meant for mortal eyes. He hated this feeling with the upmost passion.

"It is," Hades began slowly," not just Hera you fear. Am I right?"

Ares nodded wordlessly and sat on a misshapen rock, no bigger than the one Vangelis had once sat on in his village to watch the sailors from afar. His body language was different from mere moments ago. It read, tired and weary. Vangelis's face twisted violently. The god had no reason to feel such things. He was a god. 

"Yes uncle. Even if we get Vangelis to his little family in Sparta, there is no telling what will be the response of Menelaus, even Helen herself."

Vangelis straightened at the mentioning of his mother and listened to Ares sharply, his heart thumping wildly in his chest cavity. This god, this foolish god, knew nothing of his mother. He knew naught of the dreams he saw of her nightly. Helen would welcome him. She had to. Why would she not welcome her own child?

He saw Ares glance at him once before he continued to talk. It was a glance of pity and there was nothing Vangelis hated more. He had been pitied all his life. He would rather the god have hated him than give him pity. 

"The Helen I knew from the war was vapid and manipulative to a fault. How are we to know that she is any different-"

"She is!" Vangelis cut in, once more growing crimson at the gazes locked in his direction. Love and the dreaded emotion of pity was in his lover's Hades's eyes.

"I have dreams of her," Vangelis continued, impervious to the stares,"Dreams of where she tells me her woes. She wishes I was at the palace with her. She wants me-"

"How do you not know that she is placating you child," Ares cut in viciously. "How do you know she is not setting you up for your death and her freedom? You have the features of Diephobus and of hers, one look at you would have spelled danger for you both."

Vangelis's mouth grew dry. "Menelaus-"

"Is not the man you think he is," Hades finally said softly. "When we go to the palace we must be very careful about the things we say."

"We?" Ares asked incredulous. "We can't be seen by normal humans willy-nilly."

Speechless for once, Hermes nodded his head reluctantly. It was obvious to Vangelis that this wounded his pride in some ways.

"Then we shall disguise ourselves as humans and-!" 

 " _Hades you forget yourself_!" Ares hissed, his eyes narrowed into silts. 

Vangelis did not see Hades flinch as he and Ikaros, but he saw a glimpse of something close to it within his eyes and he hated Ares for it. The God of War could bother him all that he wished, but he would rather be struck by Zeus than allow him to bully his lover. He opened his mouth to violently retort and was stopped by the barking laughter of Hades.

"You forget yourself Ares. Have you forgetten the sacred promise you swore to?"

Ares flinched, which brought a sliver of pleasure to Vangelis, but met Hades head on.

"A god never forgets a promise on the river. I swore I would help, and by Zeus that is what I am doing, but you are not making my task any easier by these foolhardy ideas that will get us exposed and the boy killed." Ares's voice grew softer as he went on, his eyes shiner than glass. 

It was at that moment that Hermes decided to speak up.

"I fear that it has grown late and as amusing as all of this has been, Helios's chariot yet rides over the sun."

The group looked up to the expanse of the sky to a canvas of swirling reds, oranges, and yellows with the sun settling upon the hills of the lands like a lover upon bedding. Ares turned his back to Vangelis and began to gather up the swords wordlessly. He handed Vangelis's sword to him and walked away back to the rock. He was not human, but at these times Vangelis could see the humantiy in him and it scared him beyond rational thought. More curious still, Vangelis peeped Ikaros hesitantly moving towards Ares and involving the god in, what seemed to be, awkward conversation. 

His eyebrows furrowed and he began to move in their direction when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up and shakily smiled at Hades.

"We must talk in private." the god proclaimed and began to plod on in the opposite direction. Vangelis shoved his sword into his scabbard and followed suit into a more secluded area that was away from prying eyes. All at once he began to feel a tad uncomfortable. It had been sometime since he and Hades had had some private time together. 

It had occured to him previously, but he had not wanted to appear clingy and his mind had been preoccupied with other thoughts besides love. He loved Hades, truly, but he couldn't help but think the god was keeping his distance and so he worked to keep his in exchange. It felt lonely, even with Ikaros at his side to keep him company. 

"Hades, this is so sudden-"

The God of the Underworld ran his thumb over Vangelis's lips, stopping the boy in his tracks. His lips were chapped from wear and exhaustion, but that did not seem to matter to Hades as he drunk in every part of his body. That feeling within that aroused so many years ago began again and Vangelis found himself pressing his lips against Hades's. A shiver of pleasure shook through him and, much to his shame, he moaned airily. 

He could feel the god laughing against his lips and frowned deeply, which did nothing to lessen to arousal. The god laid him down upon the unsteady ground below and lifted his chiton. Vangelis closed his eyes and breathed uneasily, his eyes rolling as hades entered him as slowly and gently as he would a virgin. He was not and moved with him, his body aching to be closer to his, aching to be pleasured. He was pressed against him tightly, hungrily and with abandon. 

It had been so long since they had last been together, been like this, Vangelis savored it like a starving man offered scraps of food. When they had finished they stayed there, satiated and panting. He burrowed his head into the crook of Hades's arm and breathed in the god's scent, which smelt all too sharply of smoke and pomegranates even after all this time from the underworld. He couldn't imagine the moment being anymore perfect. 

"Ares is right about your mother Vangelis," Hades whispered, his voice husky from strain," he's right about everything."

Vangelis stiffened within his arms and rolled away from him, slapping away the god's tender, but deceptive, hands. He straightened his garments, his face awash with humiliation for the second time that day.

"Vangelis-"

"Is my love all a joke to you?" he asked quietly, his mouth twisting.

"By Zeus's lightning, of course I do not," Hades came to him slowly, almost feline like, and curled his arms around him. Vangelis could not resist and melted into his embrace," I only wish to talk of these things now that we have time to ourselves. We have not had that in quite some time."

"But so soon after we have made love...."

"Should I have waited? With Hera on the move, it might have been too late by then."

There was something in Hades's tone that rubbed Vangelis the wrong way. It was the same tone he got from Simonides of his father.....no, Solon each time he did something wrong. He hated it with the passion of a thousand suns. 

".....I guess you are correct....." he bit out, mostly against his own will.

The smile was warm, but to Vangelis's it felt patronizing. 

"But, since you do not want to talk of these things now, we shall wait. Instead we have much more pressing concerns."

"Such as?"

"Your name."

Vangelis blinked steadily. "My...my name?"

"Yes, your mother named you Abaddon," If Hades felt Vangelis quiver he did not mention it," and that is what you shall be called."

_Abaddon...ruination and destruction._ It was times like these where Vangelis reevaluated all that he knew of his mother. She says she had no choice in the matter of his name, however... _Abaddon._  Such an accursed name for a small baby, a newborn at that for no faults of his own volition but his father's family's. He despised the name, what it meant, the events of his birth and yet it fit to his purpose. 

He would bring ruin to those who destroyed his family. He was going to Sparta to see his mother, and to destroy Menelaus who laid to waste his homeland. Abaddon looked Hades deeply in his eyes and the god felt a cold feeling wash over him. 

"Then from now on, you shall call me by my true name."

"But of course...Abaddon."

\------------------------------------------------

His wife was hiding something from him, as usual. Menelaus scutinized her steadily, his mouth forming a thin white line. As usual, her mouth was closed shut on the issue, closed shut on him. He could not remember a time when silence did not grace these walls since the drowing of that insolent witch who killed his child. His fist slammed on the table, causing her to flinch and, in his own childish way, caused Menelaus unspeakable pleasure. 

Servants shuffled on over and helped him from his chair. He did not miss the look of disgust in Helen's eyes as she looked at his now fuller physique. His stomache pooled over the belt of his blue dyed chiton and managed to wobble each step he took. Growling as though he was a beast, he knocked away the servants and hobbled to his throne on his own, batting away servants as he went. 

Just for a moment, he saw her gorgeous eyes lit up proudly and then dim quicker than a candle in rain. Even after all this time, he was a sucker for her, for her moods.  _Weak, I am weak._  He sat on his throne and squeezed into it uncomfortablly as he did so. He needed a new chair, knew he needed a new chair and yet could not summon the bravery to do so. 

It was a symbol of days long gone, of past victories long won. He would be dammed before he lost the one thing that reminded him of his past honor. His mind shuffled through various scenarios, he would find what was troubling his wife. For his won sake and selfishness.

\-----------------------------------------------

"Father, are you sure they are even heading into this direction?" Simonides asked impertinent.

Solon struggled not to slap his only son in the face. Theodoulous rightfully kept his mouth closed for he knew that this was all his doing, even if brought to the task by a goddess. He sighed deeply, wondering just how he managed to ignore Simonides's fault until now. Had he been so blind? Had he been so evil as to punish an innocent young boy for another's faults?  _Yes, yes you were._

"If they are going to where I think they are going then, yes. Sparta is some ways from here."

Solon was somewhat outside of his element when upon land, he was a seaman, not meant for the land, however he would try....for Vangelis. They were not that far from the town of Voies. While Solon had wanted to head out straight away, Andonis had made him see the sense to properly get more supplies for his journey. He was grateful towards his old friend...but also resentful. Who knew what the boy was getting into.....what he was getting Ikaros into. 

Simonides gazed at his father with a curled lip of disdain and made an off-hand comment about scouting ahead before he left the two behind him. This was supposed to be  _his_  one chance of glory to show the others that he was as competent a sailor as his father. To show them he was not a naive little boy as he had been once sometime ago. He clenched his fists tight enough to sprout blood. Then, as with all things concerning his bastard brother, it went all into flames. 

The next time he was to see Vangelis he would pay.  _Dearly_. This was to be the last time he was to slight him.


	14. Cherishing A Vain Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo walked the holy realm of Olympus with his chiseled face devoid of all humor. Without the constant irksome presence of Hermes the place seemed quieter than it had been in several millennia

Apollo walked the holy realm of Olympus with his chiseled face devoid of all humor. Without the constant irksome presence of Hermes the place seemed quieter than it had been in several millennia. Even those that wallowed with him, such as Demeter and her daughter Persephone who had surprisingly returned early from the Underworld, much to Zeus’s woe, and the usually boisterous Dionysus was solemn. Even more distressing was the missing of Hades from his post. Charon could not control the souls forever.

_My, my Zeus, one brother on a revenge quest, one disappeared to earth, and your wife off doing who knows what._  Apollo chortled in amusement at his musings and flicked a strand of golden hair from his face. Things were going on without his participation and knowledge, much to his annoyance.

 

 "Apollo?"

 

 The blond god paused in his steps and gazed over his shoulder, his emotionless face screwing into distaste. Hephaestus limped his way, sweat pouring down his ugly face. Apollo was a vain god. After all, how could he not be after being known as the most vibrant and gorgeous in Olympus besides Aphrodite with blond hair of wool like texture, eyes of a vibrant blue, and heart shaped face? He could hardly stand to be in the presence of his half-brother who was the opposite whose whole being was marred by scars.

 

 The God wasn't entirely grotesque due to his own volition, Zeus was responsible for many a scar that was plain on his face. 'Of course that was his punishment for getting in between Zeus and Hera during one of Zeus's bouts of anger.' He had his uses and mostly stuck to his little room where he craft Zeus's bolts. Out of sight, and out of mind.

 

 "Is there something you need Hephaestus?" Apollo asked, his melodious voice not containing his annoyance.

 

 The lame god reached him and after some intakes of breaths, relayed his message to him," Zeus requests your presence in his chambers."

 

 Apollo's celestial blue eyes widened then he nodded his acceptance.

 

 "Before you go tell me, with Hermes now disappeared to the fates know where, are you to be our new messenger? I must disclose that you are....ill equipped for the task."

 

 "Do not push your luck brother," Hephaestus answered him gruffly, still sounding out of breath.

 

 "But of course," Apollo sounded as though he were talking to a child," Olympus forbid I anger our bolt maker. Now, if you were to excuse me, I must get going."

 

 He walked past his brother with unsubtle elbowing his shoulder as he moved. As he had thought, the god did nothing. Apollo erupted into laughter and carried on his way to Zeus.

 

\-------

Ares glared at Vangelis's back and with a huff looked away from the mortal with deep frustration. He cared far too much for his own liking, however, due to that infernal promise he made Hades, he had no choice but to look after someone he knew was doomed.

 "Ares,' Ikaros, with ease in his step walked up to him,” I wish to speak with you."

 

 "You stay behind. Why," Ares peered deep at the human whose body language seemed too loose for his liking when it came to talking to a god," shouldn't you go after your friend? Or, is it that you wish we were skin ship partners as Vangelis and Hades?"

 

 The human Ikaros did not flinch and sat close to Ares who found his presence oddly calming. 'This must be the reason the boy is so close to him. Shame this calming atmosphere has not transferred over...' Ares frowned into the distance. At what, he had no idea.

 

 "I am not of that kind," Ikaros began softly which shocked the God of War considerably. Usually the ebony haired boy was just as loud as Dionysus," when I go back to my village, if I am to go back to my village, there is a woman waiting for me. My interest in you is not romantic, but pragmatic. It is about Vangelis-"

 

 "I tire of worrying about that fool," Ares interrupted him, as polite as he could to return the favor. He could not remember the last time someone had spoken to him as this as, if he could fully use this phrase, as a human being and not bovine feces under their sandal," his sword skills are improving, but he still have much to learn and we have a mere two weeks’ time before we reach Sparta and Zeus knows what will happen then."

 

 "I care not for his sword skills," Ikaros mouth twisted in thought as he attempted to convey his feelings," it is his spirit. That person who walked away from us a mere moments before was not friend. Vangelis that I am in knowledge of is a kind soul, not a vengeful one. He has not been the Vangelis that I grew up with in our village since we sailed from Canea."

 

 Something, an offset of pity which Ares hated more than anything for himself or anybody else, stirred his heart. He grimaced and turned his eyes to the other boy who, whilst not as beautiful as Vangelis, was fairly handsome in his own right. His dark hair was mused in a sloppy fashion that partly covered his eyes which was the stunning color of freshly made bronze. His facial profile was masculine and yet boyish enough to reveal that he was still on the early cusp of manhood. His body, while not as powerful as Ares's, was still very impressive and bulky as opposed to Vangelis who was mostly lean and skin that was fairly sun kissed.

 

 "So what you are saying," Ares began to say after discovering he had taken too long to reply," That your friend might be tampered with?"

 

 "I fear either he has either been driven partially mad by his grief," Ikaros told him, nonplussed by the god's pause," or the seed of discord has been sown by Eris inside him. Maybe a combination of both of them."

 

 Ares's mouth flattened into a white line and he motioned Ikaros to continue. Which the boy did.

 

 "What I mean to say is," Ikaros visibly swallowed," can you undo the enchan-"

 

 "I am not Hecate the Goddess of Witchcraft and neither is Hades. I am deathly afraid that whatever is upon your friend is permanent."

 

 "No....no it cannot be!"

 

 Ikaros wrenched up from his perch beside Ares and began to pace furiously. His eyes burned with the familiar flame of tears. His friend was in danger and...He could do naught to save him from his own folly.

 

 "I am sorry young Ikaros," Ikaros looked back at the god, almost forgetting he had been there," your friend Vangelis was doomed from the time he came from Helen's poisoned cunt."

 

 "Please," Ikaros pleaded and, in a gesture more pathetic than Ares had ever seen, got on his knees in front of him," as with Vangelis being your student, I ask you humbly to be the same."

 

 For the life of him, Ares could not tell the boy no.

 

\---------

 Apollo flicked invisible dirt from underneath his cubicle and gazed upon Zeus with a lazy attempt at seeming interested at what he had to say. His mouth was clamped shut, however, the dire straits of the throne room of the head god was quite the gossip topic. It was not Zeus’s style to keep such a disorganized space. It must be Hera’s doing. The wrench.

 

 "Apollo, as I am sure you are aware, the underworld is in chaos and without a proper messenger it has put a great strain on the cosmos. “

 

 “Oh my,” Apollo began, his voice holding a slight hitch,” Not the cosmos. Say it isn’t so father.”

 

 “Apollo,” the Golden God flinched and dropped his look of amusement. If just for a moment,” would you please take this seriously?”

 

 “Of course my lord Zeus. My folly is my own.”

 

 Zeus waved away his apology and began his speech again.

 

 “They will not be that difficult to locate. They are with that…that accursed child of Helen that seems to be causing me problems no matter where I flick my beard.”

 

 "Ah, so that Abaddon fellow I've been hearing about. Or is his name Vangelis?" Apollo quipped with a small smile.

 

 Zeus's eyes flashed towards his son.

 

 "How is it-?”

 

 "That it is he that causes trouble," the God of the Sun finished for him," it's simple. Who has not heard Hera rant nowadays?"

 

 Ever since that disastrous meeting all those years prior, the son of Helen was all that was found on Hera's lips. The poor goddess was going insane, however, Apollo used this to his own advantage to hear more of the gorgeous child. Hair of spun gold, lips as red as the juiciest pomegranate, and eyes the brightest silver. He pictures him now and salivated, hardly managing to keep it from Zeus who observed him with a mouth downturned in disapproval.

 

 "I cannot keep you away from the boy, nor can I keep away Hera, but you will bring back Hermes and Hades to their posts." Zeus proclaimed strongly.

 

 "And what of Ares?" Apollo inquired.

 

 "Let him rot. Maybe some years with the humans will tame that hot head of his."

 

 An air of doubt sifted over the two as Apollo straightened himself. He bowed gingerly to his father and fellow god.

 

 "It will be my upmost pleasure to bring them back."

 

Zeus watched him leave as his fingers drummed against the arm rest of his golden and ivory throne. The Fates were spinning a destiny he, himself, could not foresee.  He arose from his throne and headed to them, his steps weighting a thousand tons.

 

 Their backs were turned away from him but he could see that they were at work vigilantly watching over human lives. Even as god of the heavens, they gave him a chill. They held so much power over so many.

 

It brought his own morality into question.

 

 "So you come Zeus," they sung out in chorus," come to see the boy's fate."

 

"I have come to see our fate as well," he barely managed to keep the power in his voice and preserve his dignity.

 

 He did not know if it was Clotho, Lachesis, or Atropos, but one beaconed him forward and there in their hands was the boy's life thread. Small, and getting smaller still.

"So the boy soon dies," the relief in his voice was palpable.

He regretted the boy's short life, but reason and order needed to be brought back to Olympus, one way or the other. It was one of those times where he regretted his choice to save the child from Hera's grasp.

"However the boy will not die if he makes the proper choice." they sang, their voices as soft as birdsong in spring.

"Proper....choice?"

"Abaddon is at a crossroads. He will make a dangerous choice that may make or break him."

Zeus's sky blue eyes shifted between the three fates and felt a stone like one held by Sisyphus fall into his stomach. He walked more towards them and there was his scales and Abaddon's lots. He had not touched them since the war with the Trojans to determine Hector's fate against Achilles.

 "Zeus," their eyes began to glow an effervescent yellow," it is you who must choose if Abaddon lives or dies."

 

 Zeus picked up one lot and stacked it on one side. The scale tipped over and a silent apology left his now dry lips.

 

 "The boy dies.”

 

\-------

Apollo began his trek down the side of Mount Olympus only to be interrupted by a familiar voice that was music to his ears.

“Apollo,” Persephone was walking towards him, sullen in her movements,” before you go on your way I must speak with you.”

With a flair, much too overly dramatic, he bowed to her and grabbed her hand to kiss it as she came closer to his person. A blush tainted her cheeks pink much to her mortification. At one point, Apollo and she had been lovers in secret to hide from the wrath of her mother. Even though she no longer felt and romantic tendencies towards him, his gestures never failed to make a blushing virgin out of her.

“If you wish it my dear, I shall provide. Now put mouth to purpose and tell me what is it that clouds such a gorgeous mind?”

Persephone removed her hand from his grasp and clasped her hands in front of her white chiton as if in prayer. Apollo eyed her breasts hungrily and struggled to keep his hands to himself. White was the color of virginity and a virgin Persephone was not.  _However,_  he thought with a silent chuckle,  _you would have much difficulty convincing Demeter of this fact._

“I wish to be reunited with my husband. Please tell him that I will return back to the underworld and will await for his return.”

“You wish to go back to him?” Apollo asked with an arching eyebrow.

“Not after what he did to me,” she replied with apt bitterness,” however, my mother has convinced me that since I have eaten the food of the Underworld I must go back or plunge the earth to chaos.”

“Chaos, chaos, always chaos,” Apollo told her flippantly,” this request I shall fulfil as I go to him.”

“I give you my gratitude Apollo.”

 

_Do not thank me just yet._ Apollo began his descent towards the human world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters might be coming a lot quicker than they usually do, might, so look out for those. 
> 
> Apollo finally enters the scene and is just as great as I imagined him to be. He was originally supposed to be in Hades's place, but then Hades wanted in on some of the action and now here we are. On the cusp of Abaddon's downfall.
> 
> I actually have no links for this one that I used. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	15. Fortune Seemed Compliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it did not matter if Helen was using him. For he too was using her for his own purposes.

It was always the same dream or, in Abaddon’s case, the same vision. The dewy and emerald grass felt _alive_ and the yellow tips of the blades tickled his palms. The dark trees which surrounded the clear pool were always cold, colder than the mirror-esque water itself. Sinister was the word in which he felt was most appropriate for his vision’s aura. His usual routine was to downplay his emotions of unease.

 

After all, this was his mother. She would never hurt him. _Like Elpis._ A pang of longing for his adopted mother rang at his heart like a bell in a temple. However, along with this came the throes of indifference with thoughts of his foster father and the flames of longing were quickly snuffed out, like a dim candle which had flickered for far too long in the night.

 

He did not hate Solon. Even now, much to his infernal shame, his first and foremost yearning was to make the man proud. To become his true heir and watch as Simonides was trampled under his feet. His face tinted pink at his boyish desires. He had hoped to move past that dream, only to find that the hooks weren’t so easily dislocated from his body. He had spent his entire life looking up from his mother’s lap to just catch a glimpse of his father’s eyes which were eternally on Simonides and never on him. _Never on him._

 

Abaddon’s mouth trembled as Helen, still in the shape of a snow white swan, caressed his arm with her wing. He had to stop thinking about them. Helen wasn’t Elpis and Elpis wasn’t Helen. She was the past and that was where he needed her to stay.

 

_This is the work of Ares._ It was due to him that these thoughts ravaged his mind. He pet his mother’s swan form absently. He could not have doubts now. Not when he was so close to his final goal: The restoration of Troy.

 

Yes, it did not matter if Helen was using him. For he too was using her for his own purposes. If what he had heard over the years through idle adult gossip was true, then he was the one true heir of Sparta along with Troy. Menelaus was not long for the world. Once his soul was in the Underworld, Sparta and its army was his.

 

He salivated over the power he was soon to have. Power over Simonides and his father. Power over Ares. He would avenge Troy and take down every city state which opposed him. For his true father. For his true homeland. For his true birthright.

 

No one, not even Hera nor Hades would stop him. He loved the God of the Underworld but, he would rather be thrown into the Phlegethon than allow Hades to get in his way.

 

“My son let us exchange words. What darkens your mind?”

 

The swan’s voice shook his entire being. _I must not allow her to worry._ From his lips he replied,” Nothing plagues me mother. I only produce melancholy thoughts of finally seeing you after a fortnight.”

 

The swan flapped its wings and rested its head upon his lap. If only the swan’s thoughts were as innocent as its appearance. _Hera will be delighted in these new developments._

_\--_

Ares awoke. His body trembled violently and yet, it was not cold. Shaking off the morning’s drowsiness, his sandals tip toed over his comrades as he went to meet the dawn, unaware of who was following at his heels.

 

From beyond the hill from which he stood, Ares witnessed his fellow god bring in the sun from the star’s resting bed. He wished to call upon the name of Helios once more. They had been friends at one point in time on Olympus and now-

 

“I have no one.” He said solemnly.

 

“No one oh mighty Ares? Am I not your friend?”

 

The god of war attempted to not show much emotion but knew instantly that he had failed. Ikaros laughed openly at him and instead of anger, Ares experienced a flutter in his bowels. The dark haired youth threw a sword in his direction which he caught flawlessly with ease.

 

“May we begin those lessons I was promised?” Ikaros asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

 

Ares wanted more than anything to dislike the boy, but loneliness and something within him prevented that. Something within him that everyone hath said he lacked. A grin broke out on Ares’s face.

 

“Let us begin your training then. Ready your sword.” He demanded.

 

Ikaros took his stance.

 

An hour or so later, they both laid on their backs, panting and covered in sweat. The boy was good, no Achilles, but he had the markings and physique of a true warrior.

 

“Why did you decide to be a merchant? With the way you faced me in combat, you can be much more.” Ares asked, his curiosity piqued.

 

“Vangelis,” IKaros expelled a sound from his mouth that sounded much to Ares like a sigh,” He is the reason why I do much these days.”

 

“Do you not mean Abaddon?” Ares could not help the jealousy which seeped into his voice.

 

Ikaros flipped over on his side to face him and his green eyes met Ares’s celestial ones. The god, this time, stopped his fluttering heart.

 

“He will always be Vangelis to me. If only in my thoughts if not told by my lips. He is all I have and I am all he has.”

 

“Not anymore.” Ares bit out.

 

“No, not anymore.” Ikaros agreed bitterly.

 

“I am sorry.” Ares said before he could stop himself.

 

Why did he care for this mortal? It was irrational. He was not like Apollo always looking for a young man to fill with his seed. Ikaros softened his face and drew closer to Ares. Ares found himself doing the same.

 

“Many thanks to you Ares…” Ikaros said in a breathless whisper that Ares wasn’t sure was from their recent training or something else. _Loneliness has made me delusional._

“Ikaros I-“

 

“Ikaros!”

 

For what was the umpteenth time, Ares cursed Abaddon and quickly motioned away from Ikaros and dusted off his robes, unaware of the hurt look he was receiving in response. Abaddon was followed instantaneously by Hermes and Hades, each giving him curious looks. He ignored each one.

 

“What are you doing with him?” Abaddon demanded.

 

It took every ounce of Ares to not disembowel the boy where he stood. And Hades and Hermes just allowed the boy to disrespect him like henpecked mothers too fatigued by their naughty children. Ikaros got up, dusting off his robes as well and said,” Do not be alarmed Abaddon, I only followed him out of mere curiosity and nothing more.”

 

And like a dog, Ikaros enabled him as well. There was nothing Ares hated more than a submissive dog and now he was surrounded by them.

 

“I merely wanted to observe the sunrise,” Ares barked out, “Nothing more. Nothing less.”

 

Abaddon nodded, rather smugly if Ares was to be asked, and hugged Ikaros. Jealousy flared once more in Ares. He only hoped the boy was killed, and quickly, before he was driven mad.

\--

The realm of the Underworld was far too crowded for Eris’s liking. Soul upon soul was lined up by the ferry, their ominous voices crying out in agony to be let on the boat.

Coins jiggled in their hands like maracas.

 

Charon attempted to push them away from his boat as well as he could but, it was obvious to the naked eye that he was failing in his task. The chaos was like a sweet grape on Eris’s tongue.

 

The Underworld needed Hades back, dearly, but he was far too busy chasing a youth destined for death. _A pity. You would think that Hades would want him dead but it seems he is too obsessed with keeping the boy alive._ The irony was not lost on her. Under the concealed black rock canopy which covered her presence, she waited for Hera.  The goddess was late, as per usual these days.

 

It had reached Eris’s ears more than once the trouble her little partner was causing on Mount Olympus for Zeus. She just found it a shame that she was ordered to stay away as opposed to joining in on all the fun. After several more minutes, Hera’s form materialized in front of her, more frazzled than the last time she had seen her.

 

“Hera I must say-“

 

“It shouldn’t be long now. The boy won’t live to see his nineteenth year.”

 

Eris’s lips thinned down to a white line.

 

“What is it that you mean?”

 

“My husband has sent down Apollo to the earth realm to bring back Hermes and Hades. Without them, the boy is powerless.” Eris didn’t think she had ever heard the goddess so giddy in her life.

 

“But what of Ares? What about his involvement?”

 

Hera waved the concern away as though swatting a fly.

 

“Ares is nothing but a pest. Without war he is useless. Besides,” Hera smiled lopsidedly, “Once Hades leaves, he should follow. Nothing is tying him to the boy _but_ Hades.”

 

Eris grunted but in her mind she had a whirl of thoughts surging. Hera had done all of this, without alerting her. Not even a message was sent, despite the only messenger at the moment being Hephaestus. When Zeus made that decree, Eris realized that he too was losing his mind as much as his wife was.

 

“Hera, Hades’ and Hermes’ disappearances will not stop the boy. You do not know what he plans-“

 

“ ** _Silence_**! What the boy does from now on is none of your concern.”

 

_What?_

 

“W-what do you mean my queen? Have I not been useful?” Eris fumbled over her words, her façade dropped and forgotten.

 

It was no wonder she had been left in the dark. It was no wonder she no longer received messages. She was being thrown away like rubbish. Just as she had always been.

 

“You _wench_! You promised me-!”

 

“I promised nothing. You were always going to be discarded. I had planned this sometime ago, but your failure to kill the boy with that…thing from Kush only cemented my desire to be rid of you.”

 

“I have information on the boy!”

 

“Information that no longer means anything to me once Hades and Hermes leaves. He will die in the wilderness along with that friend of his.”

 

Eris trembled and yet her face showed none of her weakness. The boy planned on taking the thrones of both Athens and Troy and yet Hera would rather close her ears to it all. _It is of no matter to me._ Eris paused in her thoughts and a loud laugh erupted from her diaphragm. Hera reared back in alarm. _I would much rather watch him succeed than for Hera._

 

“You are right. Thank you my queen for allowing me to see the light.”

 

Without waiting for an answer, Eris escaped from the underworld with the screams of the dead and Hera at her back. She had to talk to Ares and quickly before it was too late.

\--

As the days began to pass, Hermes couldn’t help but notice the hostility mounting between Ares and Abaddon. _Zeus how that cursed name makes me shudder._ The God of War was harsher with his training, more severe than usual and Abaddon was defiant, deflecting Ares guidance at every turn. It was a powder keg, one that Hermes, with all his mischief, did not want to see explode in their faces.

 

He attempted his usual color of humor only to be rebuffed by the two in question. Even Hades, it seemed, had lost his power over the boy and was rejected more often than not for Ikaros; who tried to keep the peace between Ares and his friend. It looked as though Abaddon no longer trusted the gods.

 

_And why should he,_ Hermes thought grimly, _when so many want his head on a platter?_ Hermes shook his head and upon a tree branch he gazed at the starry heavens. In only three days they were to reach Sparta and Zeus only knew what would happen then.

 

His heart ached for the boy Abaddon had once been. The blond was asleep, tucked within the protective embrace of Hades. He looked as innocent as he had been the day Hermes first met him. He was now tained, not in body, but in spirit and mind.

 

Eris’s doing no doubt but there was nothing any of them could do. Only the goddess herself or Hecate could undo the enchantment. _And Eris is working for Hera. This journey was cursed the moment we started,_ Hermes sighed deeply.

 

“Why do you look so grim brother?”

 

Hermes falter on his tree branch in shock. Apollo stood below him on the ground. He was looking straight at him with a dark glint in his eyes.

 

“A-Apollo?”

 

The God of Light smirked and did a little bow.

 

“In the flesh Hermes. Now, tell me, what is it that ails you?”

 

The others, now awoken from  Hermes’s shout, surrounded Apollo. Ares had his sword in hand and looked upon the his brother with hatred.

 

“Leave you insect. I do not know what you came for but I will run you through with my sword.”

 

Apollo blatantly ignored him and addressed Hades who seemed to be less angry and more apprehensive.

 

“Zeus has sent you. Has he not?”

 

“Hades, Hades, Hades, you have always been a wise one and once more I stand in awe of your mental prowess. If only I could say the same of Ares.”

 

Ikaros held Ares back from cutting him, although he felt the urge to do so himself. Hades, aware of the hostility in the air gestured for Apollo to continue.

 

“Well to make an epic short and painless, Zeus needs you and Hermes to return to your realms.” Apollo finished, his grin a permanent feature upon his handsome face.

 

Hades nodded stiffly. He knew that this day would come. He just didn't know that it would come so soon. _And at a tense time. Then again, Apollo didn't really play by anyone else's rules except his own unless it suited him,_ Hades grumbled silently to himself.

 

Hermes didn't want to return but, if Zeus was sending Apollo then he would send much more to capture him against his will. Ares finally managed to escape Ikaros’s grasp and looked upon Apollo with so much uncertainty that Apollo almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

 

“And what of me? Did father not mention me?”

 

“Without Hades and Hermes in their places is chaos. Without you in yours, there is peace. To use Zeus’s own words here,’Ares can burn for all that I care.’”

 

Ikaros swore that for a brief moment, tears gathered in Ares’s eyes until they gave way to cold indifference as he slid his sword back into its scabbard. Ikaros had never seen the god so weak.

 

Abaddon felt strangely aloof, as if this was happening to somebody else and he was a mere spectator in a rowdy crowd. Hades couldn't be leaving him. _I can not lose him. I cannot._

 

“Let me say my goodbyes,” the blood was suddenly rushing to Abaddon’s ears. Hades was saying these so clinically, so coldly. Di-did Hades no longer care for him?

 

“That can be arranged. Just say good bye to your precious lover so that we can leave.” Apollo rolled his eyes, but his tone betrayed him. He was having way too much fun. Much more than he had the right to.

 

“I request to do it in private.” Hades continued and something in Abaddon snapped.

 

“I have nothing to say to you. If you wish to rid of me then leave already.” Abaddon replied seething.

 

His eyes shifted to Apollo who met his gaze unflinchingly with a smile and a question in his eyes. Abaddon swallowed hard and looked away nodding.

 

“Are we entirely done with the melodrama ladies?” Apollo asked.

 

No one could answer him. Feeling delighted, he clapped his hands with an overly dramatic flair. Apollo grabbed Hades’s hand, who glanced at him with contempt. The god could not help but think that Abaddon was lost to him. Like a fading candle put out by two fingers. Apollo also reached for Hermes who jerked away at the last moment.

 

“Wait I have something to say.” he addressed to Abaddon.

 

“Oh for Olympus’s sake-go ahead. And be quick about it.” Apollo made a hurrying motion with his hands.

 

“Vangelis-”

 

“My name is Abaddon,” the boy said cuttingly.

 

_You don't have to be the name your mother gave you Abaddon. Your worth is far much more._ Hermes thought back to those sweet days of when Vangelis was a young child and almost weeped.

 

“I will make this up to you,” Hermes continued staring at Abaddon as if staring into his soul. The boy’s lips trembled. “I promise you this.”

 

“It is already too late Hermes.” said Abaddon sadly.

 

Before Hermes could reply, Abaddon disappeared from his eyes and the golden gates of Olympus greeted him. They mocked him with their splendor.

 

“Welcome back home fellows. I do home the sudden teleportation was not too sudden.”

 

The messenger wanted to punch Apollo in the throat and Hades was not too far behind him.

 

\--

“And why is it that you stay? You have no place here.”

 

Within Abaddon's eyes and words, Ares saw his father, his family, and his own foolishness. The boy was right, there was no more need for him to be in the humans’’ presence. He had fulfilled his duty and the boy, despite his insistent grumblings, was a quick learner and competent swordsman. The only thing keeping him here was, Ares glanced quickly at Ikaros, his own selfishness.

 

The war with Troy was over and so was his journey. Where he was to go next he did not know. He loathed his vulnerability, his weakness, but, most importantly, himself.

 

“You're right. I shall remove myself.” Ares couldn't drum up any emotion left. No matter how he tried.

 

_I guess this is why Zeus chose Apollo. The bastard always had a way of cutting you down to the quick._

 

“Ares wait!”

 

The God of War paused in his steps and turned his body towards Ikaros who grabbed the god’s hand tightly. The hammering in Ares's chest began again and, for once since his tryst with Aphrodite, he allowed himself to be selfish and gripped Ikaros's hand just as tightly in his own hand. Abaddon didn't know how much more of this he could take.

 

“Do you betray me as well Ikaros?” he asked through gritted teeth.

 

“Without Ares we are lost!” Ikaros pleaded.

 

“I have no more need for gods and their games or powers.”

 

“Abaddon please…”

 

“You are either with me or with him!” several droplets of spittle were released from the blond’s mouth in fury.

 

Ikaros could no longer see any remainder of the boy he had once saved from Simonides.

 

“I-I am with Ares.”

 

Abaddon could only watch wordlessly as his one and only true friend walked out of his life.

\--

That early morning the skittish birds heard the sharp sounds of metal. Abaddon’s sword sliced into fragile tree bark. His muscles screamed at the excursion and his sweat had his chiton cling tightly to his body. Everyone had abandoned him. _Everyone_.

 

Tears began to cloud his vision and he threw his sword to the ground. If Ares had been there, he would have yelled at him for attempting to ruin a good blade. _But Ares is no longer here so I will do as I please._

 

“Oh you poor, poor child.” Apollo said mockingly as Abaddon quickly wiped away at his moist eyes and nose. “Am I interrupting something? I'm sorry I'm a bit late. Olympus was a bit busy following Hades and Hermes’s returns.”

 

This was how gods got their power. By manipulating humans when they were the most vulnerable.

 

“You have taken everything from me. Yo-you monster-!”

 

“What is it with you humans and your obsession with over exaggeration? It was not I who wanted your little lover gods back, as a matter of fact it was rather peaceful without them there, no it was Zeus.”

 

Apollo paced about like an Athenian senator and Abaddon swallowed a smile. This did not go unnoticed by the god as he secretly grinned himself.

 

“But enough about me, whatever happened to that other human and my barbarian brother Ares?”

 

“They left as well,” Abaddon said blandly. “I have no need for them.”

 

Apollo examined the boy sharply. The boy was mentally weak to corruption and was quick to anger. His one positive attribute was his beauty which outshone even his own mother. Apollo was going to have fun with this one.

 

“I have a proposal for you then, allow me to help you then in their stead.” said Apollo.

 

Abaddon glared accusatory at Apollo. The blond god looked undeterred.

 

“Why do you wish to assist me? Are you not the God of Light?”

 

“Is your cause not just? Was your family and homeland not ripped from your fingers?”

 

Abaddon did not trust him but, allowed Apollo to get closer until their chests were touching. He almost couldn't breathe.

 

“Let me help you Abaddon, and all you yearn for will be yours.”

 

The boy took one look into the god’s eyes and he was lost. He nodded subtly, with no saliva to soothe his dry throat.

 

The deal was sealed with a kiss and Abaddon could not help but think he had sold his soul.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Abaddon: This means destruction and ruination in Greek.  
> Anonymia Eoptenia: This means Unknown story in Greek.


End file.
